Unwritten 2
by aussiesheila47
Summary: Sequel - duh - to 'Unwritten.' A pre-DH version of Book 7. Canon ships, of course. Rated for safety. Not entirely necessary to read 'Unwritten' first. Complete!
1. Welcome To My Life

**Chapter #1: Welcome To My Life**

_To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark  
__To be kicked when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around  
__To be on the edge of breaking down, and no one's there to save you  
__No you don't know what it's like  
__Welcome to my life  
__**Simple Plan - 'Welcome to my Life'**_

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley walked along the tidy suburban streets of Little Whinging, Surrey, Harry pointing out various places of significant interest to Ron and pretending not to notice the thumbed but curious noses pressed against the window. Next thing he knew, he'd be labelled as gay, he supposed.

"That's where I first saw Sirius," Harry said, indicating the bushes across the road from the playground. "And that's the alley where the Dementors attacked. Oh, and that's where Dudley first broke my glasses. I'd only had them for about two hours, too."

Harry could sense Ron's clear blue eyes on him. He didn't even know why he was telling Ron this, but it wasn't as though he'd ever had the chance to tell anyone. Usually, Harry pretended that this part of his life didn't exist, like he hadn't slept in the cupboard under the stairs for ten years, like his mother's sister and family did care about him, as Dumbledore had once said, if only slightly. However, it did feel good to get these things off his chest, like he didn't have to keep them bottled up inside all the time. It was amazingly therapeutic.

The two teenagers stopped short at the driveway to Number 4, Privet Drive. Harry took a deep breath.

"It looks different from the ground and in the daylight," Ron remarked.

"It looks as ominous as it always does," Harry sighed, and trudged up the path to the door where a brass 4 hung. Ron followed him and let his battered trunk fall to the ground with a thud as Harry knocked and set his own trunk on the ground.

Harry listened carefully. The clack-clack-clack of Petunia Dursley's house shoes could be faintly heard nearing the doorway. The door opened just as far as the security chain would allow. Harry wondered vaguely why it had been installed. Muggle locks did not stand a chance against the wrath of Death Eaters. "Yes?" Aunt Petunia asked, before recognising the tall, lean teenager on the doorstep. "What are you doing back so early?"

"School finished early," Harry said shortly. He didn't feel like going into the whole matter with his aunt. "I need to stay here a while – two days at most – so that the enchantment renews itself. My friend Ron Weasley insisted on accompanying me. If the neighbours ask, it's a St Brutus' venture where someone from a dysfunctional family gets to see how a normal family works."

"You've given this a fair bit of thought," Aunt Petunia said, and closed the door. A second later it opened fully.

"My family's not dysfunctional," Ron protested as he and Harry picked up their trunks and grunted their way into the hall.

"The neighbours don't need to know that," Aunt Petunia snapped.

Harry froze, closed his eyes and counted to ten under his breath, trying to keep his temper.

"Dinner will be at seven-thirty," Aunt Petunia said, and went back into her gleaming, spotless kitchen.

Harry opened his eyes. "Where's Ron sleeping?" The only answer he got was the kitchen door slamming. Harry turned to Ron. "I think there's a mattress in the attic, but it's probably full of cobwebs and protruding springs. You wouldn't know how to conjure one, would you?"

"A protruding spring?" Ron asked, as they hauled their trunks up the stairs. Harry gave him a Look. "You know, you look uncannily like Hermione when you pull that face."

Harry frowned. "Last time I checked, I had green eyes, a lightning bolt scar and no tan to speak of, not brown eyes, no scar at all and a light tan."

Ron glanced up at the ceiling.

"Please tell me you've noticed Hermione's eye colour," Harry muttered.

"Of course I have," Ron spluttered. "But they're chocolate, not brown."

Harry was finding it very hard not to smirk. By now they had reached his room. Harry pushed open the door and heaved his trunk inside. "You in or what?" he called to Ron, who was still standing in the hall.

"It looks smaller by day," Ron said quietly as he pulled him trunk into the room.

"You should see the cupboard under the stairs," Harry muttered.

"What about it?" Ron said blankly.

Harry took a deep breath. "You know how I said that the Dursleys don't like me?"

Ron nodded.

"I lied. They loathe me. They made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs until I got my first Hogwarts letter – they kept that from me. Oh, and I didn't just sleep there, either. They made me serve time-out there, and they locked me in there so I could hear the television and smell the food but not partake of it – they starved me, they gave me Dudley's cast-off clothes," Harry was on a roll now and information was gushing out of him like a burst watermain, he didn't know how to stop, "which just added the to the I-have-an-eating-disorder look and the one time I was ever taken to a hospital was when Dudley broke my arm, he and his gang were almost as bad as Malfoy and his thugs; that's how I got to be such a fast runner, so I could get away from them." He took a breath and continued, "They tried to squash all the magic out of me, so that I would fit in with their definition of 'normal'. They hated anything even vaguely out of the ordinary, that might challenge their way of life. Then, when I came back from Hogwarts, I couldn't even tell them, 'Oh, by the way, my friends and I just saved the lives of everyone on the planet from the bloke that killed my parents,' because they don't care and still want to believe the lie they fed me for 10 years, that Mum and Dad died in a car crash –"

"No way!" Ron interjected. "They're the dysfunctional ones!"

"You have no idea," Harry told him. "And then I came back from second year and I couldn't talk to them about what happened at school _then_, because they just didn't want to hear it; I couldn't talk to them about anything to do with it, they didn't care. When you invited me to go to the Quidditch World Cup, the only reason they let me go was because I threatened to write to Sirius saying that they were mistreating me. Year before last, I couldn't talk to them about what happened at the grave-yard – well, it's not like I want to talk about it much, even with you and Hermione, but at least they were _there_ for me to talk to. And then the Dementors attacked and they didn't say well done for fighting them off single-handedly, they didn't understand. Last summer, I just lay on my bed here, staring at the ceiling, and they didn't ask me what was wrong, they didn't try to make me eat when I refused meals. At least now Dudley's still at Smeltings and I don't have to deal with him, just Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Do you want to conjure that mattress now, or would you rather I slept on the floor?"

Ron blinked at the rapid change of subject. "Um, sure," he said. He raised his wand and muttered something Harry couldn't quite catch. A slit second later, a squashy maroon mattress appeared on the dusty floor. Aunt Petunia clearly didn't care about this part of the house. "But let's get one thing straight. I'm taking the mattress, you're taking the bed.

"You're the guest, you take the bed," Harry countered.

"Harry," Ron said angrily, "from what you just told me, you need some comparable comfort here. Just take the bloody bed!"

Harry flumped onto the bed. "All right, you win." He sighed and his shoulders slumped. "I just don't care about this place. It's not like they ever cared about me."

Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I don't know how you turned out the way you have, mate. You haven't been shown very good examples of human beings."

"What ever gave you that idea?" Harry muttered sarcastically.

**A.N: Talking is very therapeutic. Goodness knows it helped me, so I don't see why it shouldn't help Harry. And the Simple Plan song just seems to **_**fit**_**. Just to let you know, I finished writing this with 36 hours, 45 minutes to go until the real DH was released. There will be similarities between this fic and the real DH, but they are nothing more than extremely good guesses on my pre-DH part, as I have not edited this to include post-DH canon. Reviews are always appreciated!**


	2. Breakaway

**Chapter #2 – Breakaway**

_I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly  
__I'll do what it takes till I touch the sky  
__And I'll make a wish, take a chance  
__Make a change and break away  
_**_Kelly Clarkson – 'Breakaway'_**

"Your aunt and I are going to visit Aunt Marge tomorrow," Uncle Vernon said stiffly. He had been most displeased to find his nephew in the house, and worse still with one of his 'unnatural' friends. However, he had stopped blustering when Harry had explained to him that Ron was of age and could legally use magic. Neither Harry nor Ron saw fit to add that it was illegal to perform magic on and in front of Muggles. "We will be away all day, but back before lunch the following day."

Harry glanced out the window, wondering if a member of the Order of the Phoenix was squatting in the agapanthuses. "That's fine," he replied, purposefully raising his voice, just in case.

Later, when Harry and Ron were ensconced in their room, Ron ventured a question. "Marge, she was the one you blew up, yeah?"

Harry nodded. "And a right sight she looked, too, bobbing around on the ceiling," he spat. "I wish I'd had a camera. She had no right to speak of my parents like she did. It's not as though she even met them. A total bigot, she is."

_Tap, tap, tap._

Ron looked out the window. "Bloody bird," he muttered, and opened the window, allowing his hyperactive owl Pigwedgeon to flutter into the room. Even though he was still seething, Harry could not repress a smirk as Ron's face lit up like the proverbial Muggle Christmas tree. The letter was evidently from Hermione, Harry's other best friend. However, Harry had high suspicions that she was more than just a friend to Ron.

Ron ripped the envelope open and read the letter hungrily. "Hermione's fine, or at least, she was when she wrote this," he told Harry. "She's staying with her parents for a few weeks, and then she'll join us at the Burrow for the wedding. She wants to stay there until we all go to Godric's Hollow, and she's writing to Ginny as well so Ginny can ask permission by proxy."

"Nice summary," Harry remarked.

"As though she needs Mum's permission to visit," Ron muttered. "You and she both are welcome anytime."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said sincerely. Immediately after he finished speaking, a snowy white owl glided through the open window and landed on Harry's trunk.

"Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed, and relieved her of the four letters she carried.

Ron read his quickly. The one from his mother implored him to come home soon, and safely, and to look after Harry. The other one was from Ginny, his little sister, and had content of rather a more sensational manner.

"You broke up with her," he said flatly. He didn't need to clarify who 'her' was.

Harry looked up from the letter he was reading. It was from Fred and George, Ron's older twin brothers, whose jokeshop Harry had funded, and therefore the letter was appropriately witty. "Er, I did, yeah," he confessed awkwardly.

"Why?" Ron demanded. He was, after all, one of Ginny's six and over-protective older brothers – three of whom Harry himself had taught to duel and two of which were in professions where offensive and defensive spells were needed on an hourly basis. Oh dear…

"I'm trying to protect her," Harry sighed. "I've rescued her from that monster once before; I don't want her in a similar situation again. I don't want to go to her funeral knowing that she wouldn't have died if I hadn't been too selfish to keep her safe. I lo-" Harry suddenly remembered that he was talking to one of Ginny's aforementioned many and over-protective older brothers and decided on the spot to leave that sentence incomplete. He didn't even know where it had come from.

Ron appeared to let it slide, but just to clarify he asked, "So you're being cruel to be kind?"

"Exactly," Harry agreed, glad that he had swayed Ron, at least. Ron was the closest of the Weasley brothers to Harry, and not just in age. Ron knew Harry best. His brothers knew this, and therefore trusted Ron's opinion on Harry. Hopefully Ron could sway Bill, Charlie and the twins Fred and George that Harry was not being maliciously unkind. Harry didn't include Percy, because he didn't know if Percy was talking to the rest of Weasleys yet, for the family had fallen out a few years ago.

"So it's not the end of the world," Ron muttered.

"I didn't enjoy breaking it off, if that's what you mean," Harry told him.

"Yeah, I believe you," Ron replied. He cocked his head to one side, resembling a dog as he did so. "That's not your uncle's voice, is it?"

Harry listened closer. While the voice sounded familiar, Harry didn't think it belonged to a Death Eater. "It's the newscaster on the telly," he informed Ron.

"On the what?"

Harry sighed and resigned himself to explaining to Ron what a television was, comparing it to wizarding photographs and the wireless.

While Ron scribbled a reply to his mother's letter, Harry wrote a letter to Aunt Petunia.

_Aunt Petunia,_

_There is a band of wizards under the command of Lord Voldemort, the man who killed my parents. They want and he wants my blood spilt, and soon. They may or may not know that the protection this place affords me will run out on July 31. That's my birthday, by the way. Just in case, I advise you and your family to not be here on that day. Leaving the country would be smart. I'm not warning you because I like you, or anything, but because you are my biological family. This stupid war has already claimed too many lives, wizard and Muggle._

_Your nephew, Harry Potter_

The following morning, Harry and Ron had breakfast with the Dursleys, and then wandered the streets of Little Whinging. In the late afternoon, they found themselves at the playground again, where an old man was planting saplings.

"Would you like some help, sir?" Harry asked. Surely it wasn't healthy for a man that old to be straining his muscles like that. Didn't the older generations have major back problems?"

"Thanks, sonny," replied the wizened senior. Harry and Ron got down on their knees and covered in dirt, but it was worth it to see the new life given a chance. _That's what I'm working for_, Harry thought. _To give life to others_.

He and Ron hurried back to 4 Privet Drive for five-thirty. Aunt Petunia shrieked and shooed them to the downstairs bathroom, where they cleaned themselves up before an early dinner. At six o'clock the two teenagers were sitting stiffly in the living-room with their trunks and without their owls, which were presumably at the Burrow still. Harry had already placed his letter on the hall table. Several loud cracks broke the silence. Harry and Ron leapt to their feet at once, brandishing their wands.

"Lower your wands, boys," said a gruff voice, "or you'll have someone's eye out."

"Good evening to you too, Professor Moody," Harry replied. He and Ron lowered their wands slightly.

"I thought I told you not to call me Professor," Moody growled. "I never got around to much teaching, did I?"

Harry surveyed the scene. Where previously there had been two teenaged boys, one lanky and fiery-haired, and the other tense and raven-haired, there now stood the same two boys plus three adults; Alastor Moody, his electric blue false eye whizzing frantically in its socket, Remus Lupin, thin and greying and Nymphadora Tonks, young and with hair of bubble-gum pink.

"Wotcher, Harry, Ron," she said cheerfully.

"Hi, Tonks," the boys replied. Tonks preferred to be called by her surname, as she detested her given name.

"Shall we be off?" Remus said pleasantly once it had been established that everyone present was who they appeared to be and not Polyjuiced Death Eaters. "You've got your trunks? Good." The mismatched quintet made their way out of the house and away a few streets to the home of Mrs Arabella Figg, a Squib (Muggle born to wizarding parents), a member of the Order of the Phoenix, the secret resistance to Voldemort, and whom appeared to have acquired a Floo connection. Remus sent the trunks to the Burrow, and Harry and Ron followed.

Harry didn't like travelling by Floo. He had grown up with the Dursleys, who were Muggles and therefore he didn't have the experience of wizarding children who had grown up using it. He almost invariably fell out of the fireplace – once he had ended up in totally the wrong grate – and would have lost his balance this time too if a pair of strong arms had not caught him.

"Thanks, Charlie," Harry said as he wiped soot from his glasses and attempted to flatten his hair. Ron spun out of the grate soon afterward with unusual grace. But then again, Harry reflected as they were enveloped in Mrs Weasley's fierce embrace, Ron was one of those wizards who had grown up using Floo.

**A.N: Don't let this chapter fool you. My Harry **_**will**_** see the light when it comes to Ginny, I promise you. Any similarities between this chapter and the real DH are, as I said last chapter, mere coincidences. I am not integrating post-DH canon into this fic. Reviews are always appreciated.**


	3. Hardness

**Chapter #3 – Hardness**

_The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in battle._

The Burrow had always been a hive of activity to Harry's eyes, due to the large number of inhabitants. Now, it was a positive whirlwind in the leadup to the wedding of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. Every time anyone went up or down the stairs, they would invariably bump into someone else. No one was allowed into the kitchen except for the matriarchs, Mrs Weasley and Mrs Delacour, who preferred to be called Madame.

With the nine Weasleys, four Delacours (M Delacour, Mme Delacour, Fleur and her eleven-year-old sister Gabrielle) and Harry all under one roof, it could truthfully said that the Burrow was more than slightly crowded. Harry, Ron and Charlie slept in Ron's room. The Twins and Bill slept in the Twins' room. Ginny, Gabrielle and Fleur slept in Ginny's room. M. and Mme. Delacour slept in Percy's room. Percy had not RSVP'ed yet. Mr and Mrs Weasley, who were imploring their houseguests to call them Arthur and Molly, slept in their own room. All in all, it was rather cramped, although dining _al fresco_ at lunch and dinner made for very interesting occasions. Add in the frenzy and hysteria and the Burrow was nothing short of organised chaos.

Ginny and Gabrielle were often holed up in their room trying different styles for their bridesmaid's robes, hair and makeup. The Twins were often at their shop in Diagon Alley, London, but they always came back for meals. Bill now had a desk job at Gringotts, the Wizard Bank, and Mr Weasley worked at the Ministry of Magic. Their jobs kept them out of the house for most of the day, and sometimes part of the night too. Charlie was on leave, so he, Harry and Ron spent their days flying, playing one-on-one Quidditch with an umpire in the orchard.

When Hermione arrived at the Burrow a week and a bit later, Mme. Delacour exploded into a tirade of angry French that had both Gabrielle and Hermione covering their ears. The Frenchwoman stormed over to the fireplace, flung a handful of Floo Powder into the grate and stepped into the emerald flames, whizzing away to Diagon Alley. She returned a few hours later with two large packages. One contained a tent – but it was a wizarding tent, so the inside resembled a large apartment, complete with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room and parlour. The other held several expensive gifts for the Weasleys. Molly went into raptures over her ornate perfume collection, but Ginny said later as the teenagers cleared the table, that she was just relieved to finally have the other family out from under her feet. And on the subject of Ginny …

Harry found it very difficult to restrain himself around her. His resolve was not strong, and their proximity made things even harder. Not to mention, the Burrow was divided over the issue. The males sided with Harry, but all three females sided with Ginny.

Harry hadn't been hurt terribly badly when the Weasley brothers found out he'd broken up with their baby sister. Although they had been fully prepared to lynch him for 'breaking her heart,' Ron and Mr Weasley – Arthur – had helped Harry fend them off. Once tempers had settled down and the rips in everyone's clothes were repaired, Harry and Ron explained why Harry had done it. Luckily for Harry, but to Ginny's great dismay, the Weasley brothers took Harry's side. Harry was perplexed as to why Mr Wea – _Arthur!_ – took his side, until the bespectacled older man took Harry aside.

"I know what's it's like to be in a relationship with a woman who has older brothers," he said. "And I'm grateful that you're considerate enough to protect Ginny. I just wish it didn't hurt her so much."

"You and me both, sir," Harry replied, sighing.

While Ron, the Twins, Charlie, Bill and Arthur supported Harry's actions, Ginny, Hermione and Molly did not. Ginny managed to convey her displeasure by going to far as to completely ignoring Harry's presence. Harry gritted his teeth and attempted to bear it.

"You need a haircut, dear," Mrs Weasley – Molly – said the day before the wedding. Harry patted his messy hair down self-consciously before it dawned on him that she was talking to Ron. "Ginny, would you do it, dear?"

"Can't, Mum. I have another fitting. Hermione could, though. It'd do her good to get away from those books for a while.

Hermione blushed, and Harry and Ron knew why. Even here at the Burrow, they were all preparing for their quest to find Voldemort's Horcruxes. So far, Hermione had had no luck following their only lead in her tried and true method of consulting books.

It was thus that the Golden Trio found themselves on the back veranda. Ron sat on a kitchen chair with Hermione snipping away at his hair. Harry sat on the paved floor surrounded by four-high piles of books, looking up anyone with the initials R.A.B who had a sliver of a connection to Voldemort.

"I take it you've not found them yet," Harry had commented when he saw the piles of books Hermione carried down from the room she shared with Ginny. (There was an unspoken understanding in the Burrow that persons of the male gender did not enter Ginny's room. Harry thought it might have had something to do with Fred and George's tenacious pranking capabilities, but it might just have been that Ron was clumsy and may have broken a porcelain doll or something a few years back.) Hermione had merely sighed, then brandished the scissors at Ron, who flinched and clutched at his hair in mock-fright.

Harry looked up at his two friends in between leafing through two piles of thick, dusty tomes. Ron had his eyes closed, and his ears were bright scarlet. Harry doubted Ginny would have been as gentle with Ron's hair, caressing each lock before snipping it, nor brush the cut locks from his shoulders with such tenderness.

Harry sighed and reached for the next stack. How many books did Hermione have stashed in her trunk, anyway? Of course, now that they were able to use magic outside of school, she'd probably shrunk them or something. Still, it was cruel that fate had made Harry and Ginny unable to safely continue their relationship, but allowed Ron and Hermione to finally start theirs. Not that Harry begrudged them their happiness; in fact he thought they deserved it, for it had been a long time coming. He was just jealous.

Harry suddenly remembered a quote from a well-known Muggle film. _Anger, fear, aggression. The dark side are they. Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny. _He flipped the top book open and ran his finger down the table of contents. He really hoped he didn't walk in on them snogging. He didn't think his nerves, or his stomach, would be able to stand it.

The day of the wedding dawned dull and cloudy. The womenfolk holed themselves up in the Delacours' tent, and the Weasley brothers groaned, drinking copious amounts of tea to cure their massive hangovers. Mr Wea – Arthur! – enlisted Harry's help in making Hangover Potion; Harry would not come of age until July 31, nearly a month off, and so he had been legally required to stick to Butterbeer, and not have any Firewhiskey at Bill's Stag Night. Arthur himself had stuck to Gillywater, but that was out of choice. Or maybe fear of his wife's wrath …

Once the menfolk had recovered, Molly quickly enlisted their help in setting up the backyard for the wedding. Even M. Delacour helped. Harry had to admit, the decorations were very elegant. Cream tea roses floated in blown-glass bowls on the tables. The chairs were blond wood covered in white cloth, tied back with cream ribbon. Harry stared around the yard and sighed. The Weasleys were on the side of Light, and unlike another family of platinum blonds, so were the Delacours. Their ideology was clearly showing itself in the décor. Harry wondered idly what a Dark wizarding wedding would look like.

Harry and Hermione sat side by side in the second Weasley pew of the garden wedding, wearing the same dress robes they had worn to Dumbledore's funeral mere weeks before. Apparently, Fleur had been hysterical at the state of the weather, fearing that it would rain and spoil her Big Day – and the photos. Mrs Weasley had calmed her down with several cups of tea and the story of how her own wedding had been cloudy, but that just meant that the guests didn't suffer from heatstroke. Bill looked about ready to faint as it was. Hermione jumped when the Wedding March started, and Harry tore his eyes away from Ginny (who looked stunning in her bridesmaid's dress of creamy satin, to say the least) to twist his head as everyone else did, watching the blushing bride walk down the aisle.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today," intoned the wizened wizard at the pulpit. Harry realised with a start that he was the same person he and Ron had helped back in Little Whinging. The man must have been a member of the Order of the Phoenix, "to witness the joining of this wizard and this witch in magical matrimony." The introduction wasn't the only disparity between this wizarding wedding and conventional Muggle nuptials. The celebrant called on the five Elements to bless Bill and Fleur's union, and then bound their non-wand-hands together with a long strip of white cotton. Hermione whispered to Harry that that was the origination of the phrase, 'Tie the knot.' Bill and Fleur touched their wand-tips to their bound hands and made the conventional wedding vows. "I now declare you wizard and wife," the celebrant announced, and slit the binding with what looked like a very sharp letter opener. Harry sighed. What he wouldn't give for Ginny and himself to be in Fleur's and Bill's shoes …

Where had that come from?

Harry anxiously probed his own feelings. By Merlin, he was an idiot. He hadn't had a monster in his chest for Cho, now, had he? He'd only had a crush on Cho. What Harry felt for Ginny was full-blown love. And there was something important about that that, try as he might, Harry very irritatingly could not put his finger on. Ah well, it would come for him. It usually did. Anyway, he'd be damned if he let anything happen to Ginny.

The wedding party fell out – Ginny and Gabrielle had been the bridesmaids, and Ron and Charlie had been the groom's attendants – and the entire congregation of the extended Weasley and Delacour families moved to watch Bill and Fleur fly off to their photoshoot. Harry's eyes met Arthur's, and they both sighed with relief. Thankfully, no Death Eaters had decided to gatecrash, ruin the wedding and most likely send the death toll from this war up by over one hundred. They had been running a high risk.

Guests milled around the Weasley's backyard, nibbling on canapés offered to them by Delacour house-elves, while the Weasleys themselves set up the reception area. Harry marvelled at how easy and efficient the magical method seemed to be, levitating, Summoning and Banishing tables, chairs and place settings until they were just right. The Muggle, manual way would have been much more painful and time consuming. Harry and Hermione didn't even have to help.

Come dinner time – or was it breakfast time? The wedding meal _was_ traditionally known as the wedding breakfast – Harry, Ron and Hermione found themselves sharing a table with Ginny, Gabrielle, and Ron's and Ginny's spinster Auntie Muriel, who had lent Fleur her tiara. Harry could guess at the logic behind the seating arrangements. Muriel Prewett was there to supervise the children, for although eleven-year-old Gabrielle was the only child of the five, Molly still thought of the Dream Team as such as well.

Harry and Hermione could only awkwardly avert their eyes when Ron and Ginny sighed because the Delacour males cheered Bill on for eating his steak blue.

**A.N. The wedding ceremony is based off of the wedding of my cousin's stepsister – to a man named Ron, oddly enough – that I attended a few years ago. Both Lisa and Ron are heavily into magic, especially dragons. (I always think of him as Charlie, myself). The 'well-known Muggle film' is, of course, **_**Star Wars**_**, and the quote is from Yoda. In case you couldn't tell from the grammar, and all…**

**Reviews are always appreciated.**


	4. I'm Sorry

**Chapter #4 – The Third Hardest Thing – I'm Sorry**

_I walk a lonely road  
The only one that I have ever known  
Don't know where it goes  
But it's home to me and I walk alone  
__**Greenday – 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams'**_

Ron, Harry decided a few songs later, procrastinated. Ron needed a hard kick up his backside to do _anything_ to advance his relationship with Hermione. Tonight, Harry was saddled with the spurred, steel-toed combat boots that were the only ones that made any difference.

"Care to dance, Hermione?" he asked. Both his friends' heads snapped around to stare at him.

"One usually does, at a party," Hermione answered warily.

Harry stood up and proffered his hand. "Shall we?"

Realisation illuminated Hermione's face. Tossing her shawl to Ron, she accepted Harry's invitation and the two of them made their way to the crowded dance floor.

"Big families seem to run in the Weasleys," Harry remarked.

"Lucky for them," Hermione replied. "I wish I had a brother or a sister."

"You have me," Harry pointed out.

"That's true," Hermione conceded, smiling at him. "You didn't ask me to dance with me because _you_ wanted to dance with me, did you?" she shot at him, abruptly brisk and business-like.

"Er, no," Harry admitted.

"You're trying to goad someone into dancing with me because they feel jealous?"

"I'm proud to have such an intelligent sister," Harry answered, frowning over the top of her head. "Why isn't he hauling his sorry ar – er, beg your pardon, Hermione – his backside over here?"

"He who?" Hermione asked. She didn't quite manage to sound casual and nonchalant.

"You know very well who," Harry snapped impatiently. "A certain red-haired friend of ours, currently holding your shawl, and who drove us both up the wall when he snogged Lavender – and _finally_ he's cottoned on!"

"What?" Hermione squeaked. "Oh god – he's coming? Over here?"

Harry smirked down at her. "Absolutely. I hope _he_ doesn't step on your toes."

"So do I," Hermione muttered.

"What are big brothers for?" Harry quipped.

"I'm the older one," Hermione reminded him.

"Hey, you two," Ron interrupted. "May I cut in?"

"Be my guest," Harry said. "I'll take your shawl back to the table, Hermione, OK?" Ron chucked the floaty gauze garment at Harry, who caught it and draped it over his arm a la Manwell in _Fawlty Towers_. He meandered back to their table. Wistfully, he stared at Ron and Hermione. While he wished them all the best, it was bloody unfair that he had had to break up with Ginny to keep her safe and Ron and Hermione could pursue their relationship all they wanted.

"_Tu veux danser avec moi_?"

Harry's head snapped around to look at the person who had just spoken to him. "Hi, Gabrielle. Sorry, what did you just say?"

Gabrielle hesitated; her English was not the best. "Do you want to dance?" she eventually got out.

"All right," Harry answered. Gabrielle muttered something that sounded like, 'Superb,' as he led her on to the dance floor. "You've grown since I saw you last," Harry remarked. This was their first chance for a conversation since Harry had been at the Burrow.

Gabrielle ducked her head and blushed. Harry suddenly had an overwhelming and inexplicable desire to kiss the girl. He blinked and shook his head slightly. Why would he want to do that when only a few hours ago he had realised he loved Ginny Weasley? The last time he had felt like this had been at the Quidditch World Cup, and that had been because of the … oh. Gabrielle was the granddaughter of a Veela, wasn't she?

"Listen, Gabrielle," Harry began.

"Call me Gabby," she whispered shyly.

"Er, OK, Gabby. You know, you can't force someone to like you, or to kiss you. Love doesn't work like that. You don't fall in love with someone because you like the way they look. That might help you notice them, but if you like someone because they look nice, that's really superficial."

"So why is Beel marrying _ma soeur_?" Gabrielle pouted.

"They're marrying each other because they know each other very well, and they admire each other's characters, and they care deeply for one another," Harry explained gently.

"You make zem sound like just _meillures amies_," Gabrielle protested.

"They have to have a foundation in friendship, or else they wouldn't get along," Harry reminded her. "Then where would their relationship be? Anyway, Gabrielle, my point is that you can't use your powers to force someone to like you. It doesn't work like that."

"May I cut in?" Tonks interrupted. Gabrielle glared at her but moved away all the same.

"Wow, I'm popular tonight," Harry quipped.

"That was very profound, Harry," Tonks told him, jerking her head at Gabrielle. Tonks seemed _au naturel_ tonight. Her usually cropped, bubblegum-pink hair was mousy brown again, but fell to her waist. Evidently her hair and heart-shaped face had been inherited from the Tonks side of her family, because everything else about her, such as her high cheekbones, was clearly Black.

"I'm surprised she hadn't been told about it before," Harry shrugged. "In the Muggle world, a flirt with those powers could raise serious legal issues – not to mention the hackles of angry parents." They both glanced at M. and Mme. Delacour, who were waltzing gracefully.

"It's the same deal in the wizarding world," Tonks assured him. "Anyway, I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to catch up. Remus and I moved in together, so the last few days have been a hectic frenzy; packing, unpacking, and deciding what got chucked when we had double-ups."

"Oh," said Harry politely. Did everyone else in the world have to flaunt their successful, functioning relationships? Ginny was still refusing to acknowledge his presence.

"So, anyway, how have you been?"

Harry paused before blurting out his stock-standard answer of _I'm fine, thanks_. Since spilling his guts to Ron at Privet Drive, it had been harder to keep things bottled up inside. "Okay, I guess. I've been coping.

"Well," said Tonks. 'That's good. Ouch!"

Harry had trodden on her foot. "Sorry."

Tonks smiled at him. "You know, that's one the three hardest things to say," she commented absently.

Harry raised his eyebrows. _That_ had come out of nowhere. "What are the other two?"

"_Help me_, and _I love you_," Tonks answered immediately. She wasn't looking at Harry anymore. Instead, she was gazing over his shoulder. Harry manoeuvred them around to see what had caught her eye. Ginny was dancing with Remus. "You know, it took Remus a while, but he ended up saying all three to me." Tonks's attention was now firmly on Harry. "And we're both glad that he did."

"Subtle, Tonks," Harry muttered.

"Go on," Tonks prodded him. "You won't regret it, I promise you. Remus didn't."

"Am I Remus?" Harry grumbled. "Why does no female take my side, anyway?"

Tonks sighed. "It's very noble of you to want to protect Ginny and all that, Harry. You think you're doing the right thing. But women _are_ the superior gender – we're smarter. We know it's not the right way to go about it."

"I don't see any other way."

"Go on, dance with her," Tonks wheedled. "It's a good way to start repairing things."

"What got broken?"

"Her heart, you idiot!" Tonks exclaimed. Harry had a sudden mental flashback of four extremely peeved off Weasley brothers converging on him. "You ripped it out and did the Nutbush on it!"

"Oh," he said again. "Well."

"Go on," Tonks insisted, and pushed him in Ginny's direction a short distance. "Anyone with half a brain can see you're pining for her.

"Thanks," Harry said dryly, and took off.

"That's the fourth hardest thing to say," he heard Tonks mutter before she was swallowed by the crowd.

"-a stern talking-to," Remus was saying as Harry approached. "Oh, hello, Harry."

"Hi," Harry replied awkwardly. He would have appreciated a chat with his old teacher on the subject, Remus having recently negotiated a situation similar to Harry's with astounding success. Barely a month on, and he and Tonks were living together! But now that he was here it seemed better to just wing it. "Er, may I cut in?"

"Be my guest," Remus said. Harry didn't quite like the smug look in his eye. Maybe, not having had that chat was a good thing.

Harry was planning to be very careful and to not tread on Ginny's feet. If she was in as much pain as Tonks and Hermione had made her out to be – after all, the Nutbush was a rather exuberant dance – he didn't want to add to it. Ginny, however, had other ideas. As soon as Remus had moved away, she said quietly, "I'm afraid I cannot acquiesce to your request," and bolted away.

Harry bowed his head and exhaled loudly. The Fates didn't seem to like him tonight. However, if Ginny wanted him to chase her, chase her Harry would. He set off at a brisk jog after her, picking up Hermione's shawl as he passed their table. Auntie Muriel was on her sixth flute of champagne.

Harry stopped running as he met Charlie, who was standing near the drinks table. "Did you see where Ginny went?" he panted.

"She took off towards the orchard, mate," Charlie replied, indicating said mass of fairy lights with his Butterbeer bottle.

"Thanks," Harry replied, slightly less breathlessly, and set off again. He passed a large tree along the path and as he did so, he heard a particularly loud sniff. Harry glanced back over his shoulder and almost tripped as he recognised Ginny. She was curled into a base of the tree; only her bare arms cushioned her head from her knees and her shoulders were heaving. She was obviously crying.

Harry felt the monster in his chest whimper. He had never intended to hurt Ginny, in fact he had been striving for the exact opposite. So why did doing the right thing make them both feel so crummy? Harry sighed and dropped to his knees in front of her, debating whether to touch her shoulder or just call her name. He took a deep breath, but before he could even open his mouth, Ginny raised her head and stared at him.

"What do you want?" she spat.

"I want you to be safe," Harry replied instantly.

Ginny merely looked her exasperation.

"However, I've been told that I'm not going the right way about achieving that end."

"Really?" Ginny said in mock surprise. "Goodness, how did you reach _that_ conclusion?"

"I didn't," Harry said frankly. "It's just what I've been told. I just want you to know that I've thought long and hard about this. I didn't – don't – want to do it. I know it's hurting you. I don't like it myself. But it's the only way I can see to keep you out of danger –"

"Bollocks," Ginny told him coolly.

"Come again?"

"I said, bollocks. What makes you think I need protecting in the first place? I've fought against Death Eaters twice now, held my own both times – survived both times. I can look after myself, whatever you and Mum and Ron and the Order think. I'm not the gullible idiot you had to rescue from the Chamber of Secrets anymore."

Harry stared at her. The fairy lights danced upon her face, making her freckles stand out. Her eyes were flashing without the aid of said lights, however.

"Anyway, you shouldn't be so arrogant as to claim the target on my back as entirely your fault," Ginny continued savagely. "My father works for the Ministry of Magic. Ministry officials and their families are being attacked left, right and centre. Most of my family is in the Order of the Phoenix. The Death Eaters are doing all they can to deter _that_. In any case, we Weasleys are notorious blood traitors and supporters of Dumbledore. We're _all_ targets."

Harry couldn't meet her eye anymore. Surely she had been taking lessons from Hermione. This sounded like Hermione ranting at Ron for something.

"Besides," Ginny went on in a quieter voice, "Voldemort keeps trying to kill you because he hasn't succeeded yet. In cased you've forgotten again, he tried to kill me once as well. He'll want to finish the job off. You're not the only reason my life's in danger, Harry. We're in a war, you prat, _everyone's_ life is in danger. And if you really wanted to keep me out of danger, don't you think it would make more sense to keep me close?"

Harry blinked. Ron had always described Ginny as a chatterbox but Harry couldn't remember her talking – ranting – for so long in, well, forever. Still, it was a very convincing argument, and Harry found himself with no choice but to crumble. "I take it that you've thought about this a lot, too," he said tentatively. "Um, I see that I was wrong. I'm sorry." _One down, two to go_.

Ginny didn't say anything. Harry realised that his knees were beginning to ache from their prolonged contact on the hard ground, so he eased himself into a sitting position beside her.

"Will you forgive me?"

"I forgive you," Ginny murmured.

"Will you take me back?"

Ginny sighed. 'I don't know, Harry."

"Wh-what?" Harry faltered, stunned. "But you just said …"

"I know what I said," Ginny told him. "But you hurt me, Harry, and you have to let me deal with that. The pain isn't going to go away immediately. You can't expect me to just snap out of it.

"I respect that."

"But like I said, that was the point," Hermione said from beside them as she and Ron meandered past. "Oh, hello, you two. Are you talking to each other again?"

"I hope so," Harry muttered.

"Yes, we are," Ginny confirmed.

"I reckon you want your shawl back, yeah?" Harry asked Hermione. He stood up and returned the garment to its owner.

Ron nodded at Harry and tugged on Hermione's arm. "Come on, I want to show you something," he said, and led her towards the orchard proper.

"What does he want to show her?" Harry asked as he sat back down.

"Lizzie's grave, I think," Ginny mused.

"Who was Lizzie?"

"We don't talk about her. It's a special favour to Ron."

"Oh." Harry seemed to be saying that a lot tonight. Still, his curiosity burned. Strange, that not so very long ago he had thought that he would never feel curious again. Maybe dealing with people's deaths became easier when you'd gone through the motions before. What maudlin thoughts he was having.

Harry sighed and wondered how in the name of Merlin he was going to tell the Weasleys and the rest of the Order of the quest he, Ron and Hermione were soon to embark upon. But first he had to go to Godric's Hollow. That should prove tricky, considering that he didn't know where it was. Perhaps he could ask Hagrid.

Harry and Ginny sat there in silence for the rest of the night. But it was a companionable silence, not frosty as of late. And for that Harry was very grateful. Things were beginning to return to the way they had been. Harry didn't want to pressure Ginny into doing anything she wasn't ready for, felt uncomfortable about, or just simply didn't want to do, so he kept his distance.

Even though the monster in his chest was pantomiming an over-the-top and painful death scene.

**A.N. Some dialogue has been shamelessly stolen from **_**Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman**_** (Episode 1, Season 3 – 'We Have A Lot To Talk About'). Reviews are always appreciated.**


	5. Interlude

Save the Best for Last – Vanessa Williams

**Chapter #5 – Interlude**

_It's not the way I hoped or how I planned  
__But somehow it's enough  
__**Vanessa Williams – 'Save The Best Till Last'**__  
_

Ron Weasley was a good dancer. Hermione felt safe in his arms as he led them around the floor. She didn't often let Ron lead her. Perhaps she should do it more often, if letting him lead in other things felt as good as this.

The safe feeling was strange, but welcome. After all, they were in the middle of a war, and Hermione was a Muggleborn, and therefore much more susceptible to attack. Her very presence at Bill and Fleur's wedding made the gathering vulnerable. Hermione's close friendship with Harry Potter didn't exactly help, not in that sense at least. Harry was actually there at the party (and he was the reason she and Ron were dancing). So it did make Hermione feel slightly better that it wasn't her presence alone that was making Mr Weasley, Ron and Bill's father, wary.

Ron, for his part, had no idea that he had been duped into dancing with Hermione. He was still marvelling at what had happened. What in the name of Merlin had possessed Harry to ask Hermione to dance? It didn't take a Ravenclaw prefect to see that Harry was clearly pining for Ginny, Ron's younger sister. Oh, hold on, Harry had cut in on Remus and Ginny, and Ginny didn't look to happy about it, from what Ron could see of her face over Hermione's up-do and Harry's velveteen shoulder. And now Ginny was dashing away from Harry, who was chasing after her. Ron tried hard not to smirk. Ginny was writing a romance novel (Ron knew; he had seen her, and was contemplating telling his twin brothers Fred and George) but Ginny didn't seem to enjoy life imitating art.

"Should we follow them?" Hermione asked.

Ron looked down at her. Even with high heeled shoes, Hermione was still several inches shorter than him. "I hardly think they'd start a duel at a wedding reception.

"I didn't mean a light show," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I meant a sound show. A shouting match," she explained, when Ron continued to imitate a Neanderthal.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Not everyone fights like we do, Hermione," he pointed out. It was true, until lately it seemed like all they ever did was argue.

Hermione narrowed her own eyes. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalling so we could keep dancing."

"Why is that so impossible to you?" Ron asked quietly. "I didn't get a chance at the Yule Ball."

Hermione flinched. How could Ron bring up Viktor now, of all times? Surely that whole fiasco was dead and buried? Then Hermione's heart caught up with her brain and she realised what a sweet thing it was for Ron to say. She smiled up at him. "We really ought to follow them, though. I want my shawl back; it's getting a little chilly."

"All right," Ron conceded, and they meandered in the direction they had seen Charlie, another of Ron's many brothers, point Harry after Ginny. Hermione marvelled at how little nagging she had just done and Ron mourned the loss of her in her arms. They fit together so well …

"So, why did you dance with Harry?" Ron asked abruptly.

"Well, he asked me," Hermione replied at once. "He said it was to get you jealous," she admitted.

Ron froze. "He said that, did he? That conniving little … we need to keep him away from Fred and George."

"What?" Hermione said, startled. "Why?"

"It worked," Ron muttered gruffly.

"I'd noticed," Hermione informed him softly, as she took his arm. They could hear quiet voices from behind a large tree that loomed ahead of them. "But like I said, that was the point." The voices fell silent.

Around the other side of the tree sat Harry and Ginny.

"Oh, hello, you two. Are you talking to each other again?" Hermione asked.

"I hope so," Harry muttered.

"Yes, we are," Ginny confirmed.

"I reckon you want your shawl back, yeah?" Harry asked Hermione. He stood up and returned the garment to her.

Ron nodded at Harry and tugged on Hermione's arm. "Come on, I want to show you something," he said, and led her towards the orchard proper.

"What is it you want to show me?" Hermione asked warily as she fiddled with her shawl.

"_Lumos_," Ron muttered. His wand-tip flared up like a Muggle floodlight. He led her into a small clearing in the orchard with a small pond accompanied by a wooden cross. Ron stood and stared at this cross for a long time without speaking, determining how best to say what he wanted to. "You're an only child, right?"

Hermione nodded in affirmation.

"Then you can't possibly know what it feels like to have something that I'm the first in the family to own."

Hermione couldn't quite see where this was leading.

"One Easter," Ron continued, "Charlie and I were taking a walk in the village and we heard these pitiful little barks. They were coming from a cardboard box in the gutter near a drain. Some Muggle family had tired of their Christmas present. There was a Jack Russel terrier, still a puppy, truth be told, in that box. They hadn't even bothered to take the poor thing to the animal shelter!" Ron's voice shook as he spoke, and Hermione appreciated for the first time why Ron had taken Care Of Magical Creatures; like his brother Charlie, he loved animals. "Technically Harry's the first Weasley foundling because he's human. But this little puppy was the first living thing we ever took in."

"That was really caring of you," Hermione whispered.

"She was really cute," Ron continued. "Mum put up with her because she chased the garden gnomes. Dad put up with her because she had tiny paws, which meant she didn't grow very big, so she didn't eat as much as the rest of us. That's not to say we wouldn't feed her scraps on the rare occasions she was let in the house. And she really took a shine to me. I was the only one she'd allow near her food-bowl. I was the one that cleaned up after her. Well, not that anyone else would. I took her on walks, too. That's how I know the countryside around here so well.

_Another mystery solved_, Hermione thought.

"Basically, Lizzie was mine."

"Lizzie," Hermione repeated. "I can tell Ginny didn't name her."

"No, Bill did. I never found out whom after."

Hermione shrugged. "Is it important?"

"No, not really," Ron agreed. "I'll tell you frankly, I loved that dog. I wouldn't hear a word against it, even when she got into the kitchen and tracked mud all across Mum's nice clean floor – and the sofa. Then, one day, on our walk –" He broke off, staring at the cross. "She somehow managed to slip out of her collar. She ran across the street -" He broke off again. Hermione slipped her arm around his waist and rubbed his back comfortingly. "Some idiot in a Jeep ran her over," he spat, trembling like a leaf. Hermione made to hug him, but Ron held her at arms length. "Hold on. I need to get this out." Hermione nodded and stepped back. "The Twins came out of the newsagency and saw me crouched beside her. The Jeep had driven off without so much as a toot of its horn. The Twins carried Lizzie to the vet, but … it was too late."

"Oh, Ron" Hermione whispered, horrified.

"We brought her back," Ron went on, not even bothering to conceal his tears, "and Dad helped me bury her."

Hermione felt that the time was right for her to hug Ron, to comfort him as he had done for her at Dumbledore's funeral. Ron drew solace from her warm touch.

Eventually they sat down and dipped their toes in the pond. Hermione was somewhat reluctant, until Ron explained to her that his father had recommended the clearing because the pond had been enchanted, centuries before, to never become dirty or murky. It was symbolic, as Lizzie's memory was to remain as untarnished and unsoiled as the pond by which she had been laid to rest.

Hermione, being a Muggleborn who had grown up in an area totally devoid of magic (except for herself) was particularly susceptible to changes in magical energy. The orchard, or at least this part of it, had not been disturbed much for decades. They were entirely alone. Amazingly, this didn't scare her.

Ron gazed at the ripples in the clear water of the pond. "So, what are you planning to do, once this bloody war's over?"

"This is assuming I even survive," Hermione said bitterly.

"Don't talk like that," said Ron fiercely.

"Well, I was going to concentrate on surviving the war, actually," Hermione said, "before I thought about what I'm going to do afterwards. I mean, since I'm so vulnerable and all, seeing as how I'm a Muggleborn and quite close to the Boy-Who-Lived."

"I hate this war," Ron spat. Hermione was taken aback by his vehemence. "What does heritage matter? It should be ability and character that counts the most."

They leaned back and looked up at the stars. "You can't see this many stars in London," Hermione said quietly. "Or Paris, for that matter."

"I've got a star right next to me," said Ron, equally quietly.

Hermione turned her head slightly to stare at him. And she was still surprised when he kissed her.

_Sometimes the snow comes down in June  
__Sometimes the sun goes 'round the moon  
__Just when I thought our chance had passed  
__You go and save the best for last  
__You went and saved the best for last_

**A.N: I love Ron/Hermione so much, I couldn't **_**not**_** put a bit in about them. Like the title says, it's an Interlude. Writing Harry's perspective on R/Hr all the time gets a little bit repetitive; all it is, is 'It's about time, but get a room.' Ugh. So I wrote this. Many thanks to _the-irish-redhead_ for your kind review last chapter.**


	6. Pain

**Chapter #6 – Pain**

_I miss those days  
__And I miss those ways  
__When I got lost in fantasies  
__In a cartoon land of mysteries  
__In a place you won't grow old  
__In a place you won't feel cold  
__**Delta Goodrem – **__'__**Innocent Eyes'**_

The guests left the property soon after the blissful newlyweds set off for their honeymoon. Harry had it on good authority from Charlie that they were headed for Avalon, but he was advised against passing this on to the Twins in case they pranked Bill and Fleur.

Harry woke up early the next morning. He negotiated the stairs down to the kitchen, where he found a teary Mrs W – Molly! – making breakfast. "Good morning," he ventured cautiously.

Molly looked up from the frypan. "Good morning, Harry," she replied. It was obvious that she was trying to smile, but it looked rather as though she just had toothache. "Sausages?"

One hearty breakfast later, Harry still hadn't found the cause for Molly's distress but Ron and Hermione had all come downstairs, as had Charlie.

Charlie took one look at his mother's face and said urgently, "Mum, what's the matter?"

Molly sniffed. "One of my babies, flown the nest already! It seems like yesterday that Arthur and I were adding a nursery here!" She blew her nose loudly just as Fred and George bounded into the room with their usual exuberance.

"Good morning all," Fred said brightly as he and his twin each claimed a stack of toast.

"So sorry to leave your illustrious company so abruptly," George added as they approached Molly from either side of the kitchen table.

"But business is booming and we must get back to the shop," Fred finished. The Twins kissed their mother on either cheek and dashed out the back door, twisting on the spot a few feet from the steps and disappearing with loud and identical _pop_s.

"Mxyzsptlk and the Joker," Hermione muttered, shaking her head.

"Only not so twistedly evil and dastardly malicious," Harry pointed out. "Hermione, I'm surprised at you."

"Mix-el-who?" demanded a confused Ron.

"They're from two different fandoms!" Harry scolded Hermione. "And anyway, I wouldn't have thought comic books cerebral enough for you."

"Oh, pish," Hermione snapped, flapping her hands at him. "Good morning, Ginny."

"Hi, everyone," said the newly arrived, tousled redhead.

"Come on, squirt," Charlie said, reaching up and ruffling Ron's hair. "Let's go clean up from last night."

"You can't call me 'squirt' anymore," Ron protested as they exited. "I'm much taller than you are."

Harry rose to follow them. "Oh, Harry, dear, you don't need to help," Molly called after him.

"I just want to watch," he called over his shoulder.

Again, Harry was struck by the ease and efficiency of magic in the way of cleaning. What would have taken a Muggle maintenance team several hours do, took Ron and Charlie a mere ten minutes, with the aid of Summoning, Banishing, Levitating and Cleaning charms. Still, the fact that wizards had it easier than Muggles in most respects wasn't reason enough to wipe them out, Harry thought pointedly, in case Voldemort lapsed in his continued Occlumency barrier.

By this time, Hermione had joined him. Ron made his way across the lawn to them as soon as he was finished. "So now that the wedding's over, when are we going to Godric's Hollow?" he asked.

"I'd go today if I could," Harry answered. "But the Order would insist that I wait until they can supply a guard for me. I reckon my birthday would be good. I could legally use magic, myself, and it's not as though I've ever had a birthday outing." He tried not to sound wistful – what did things like birthday outings matter when he had to fight in a war?

"No luck with R.A.B. yet, Hermione?" Ron asked as they wandered around the yard.

"Not yet," Hermione admitted. "I can't shake the feeling that we've missed something really obvious.

"Harry!" Ginny called from the back veranda. "Professor Lupin's head is in the fireplace. He wants to talk to you."

Once upon a time, a statement like that would have left Harry seriously perturbed. Now, however, he knew that Ginny was referring to a Floo Call. He jogged back up to the house and wiped his earthy soles on the doormat.

The Weasely had two fireplaces; one was in the kitchen and the other was in the living room. Harry knew that the kitchen fireplace was connected to the Floo Network, and the Weasleys kept their Floo Powder on the mantelpiece above it. He wasn't too sure about the living room fireplace, and it seemed that he would be ignorant about that for a while longer too, because Remus's head was in the kitchen grate. It looked like an egg with greying hair and stubble. "Good morning, Professor."

"Call me Remus, Harry. I am no longer your teacher."

"Remus," Harry repeated. "Ginny said that you wanted to talk to me?"

"In light of Dumbledore's passing, the Order has decided to upgrade your security," Remus told him. "Basically that means that the wards here at the Burrow are being strengthened, and you're not to go out in public without a guard. In fact, we'd rather you didn't leave the boundaries of this property at all."

"Yeah, I thought that would come up," Harry commented. "Um, Remus, I want to go to Godric's Hollow."

Remus jumped and coughed; he'd swallowed some ash. "Why do you want to go there?" he choked, eyes watering.

"I just have this feeling I need to go there, that's all," Harry shrugged. "I'd like to see my parents' graves. I figured that the Order would appreciate a bit of notice."

"We're grateful for your consideration," Remus said, recovered.

"And another thing – about what Dumbledore and I were doing the night he died."

"You're not going to tell us what that was, are you?" Remus asked.

Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore made me promise to only tell Ron and Hermione. We're the only ones who can know about it, mainly because the less people know about it, the safer for everyone else."

"So it has to do with Voldemort, then?"

"Intimately," Harry said wryly. "My point is, that if we ask for information on certain people, artefacts and locations, I'd like the Order to give it to us as soon as possible, unedited, unconditionally and with no questions asked."

"That can be arranged."

"Thank you. Trust me, it's vital to getting rid of the Dark Wanker."

"That's a good nickname," Remus chuckled. "Is there anything that you want us to get on to right away?"

Harry thought for a moment on how to approach this. He decided on asking for profiles of people who matched what they knew of R.A.B. and anything on the locket, of which he gave a physical description.

"Is that all?" Remus asked. He seemed surprised. Harry realised in that instant just how little they actually did know about these things.

"It is for me."

"All right. Er, I don't mean to pry, but how are things between you and Ginny?"

Harry sighed. "We're getting there. She told me what I was doing wrong – or rather, that I was doing the right thing for the wrong reasons, which made it the wrong thing to do. I accepted that she was right and I was wrong, and I apologised."

"Did she take you back?"

"I asked her to, but she said that she needed time."

"Oh, I see. Well, don't push her."

"Oi!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm not that thick!"

Remus smiled. "Bye, Harry. Stay safe."

"See you later."

Remus Floo'd out. Harry left the kitchen and found Molly and Ginny sitting on the back steps. Molly entered back into her domain and began cleaning up the breakfast things.

"What was that all about?" Ginny asked as they made their way to Ron and Hermione, who were chatting by the broomshed.

"The Order wants to up my security, like it's possible."

Ginny pulled a face. "What do they think the Death Eaters expect them to do? Anyway, who said you can't take care of yourself?"

"Your sympathy is appreciated."

"Aw, poor baby," she teased, patting his arm. Harry caught her hand in his and held it as they continued walking. Then they realised what they were doing and stopped walking, springing away from each other as though burned.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. "I didn't – I mean, I forgot – I mean –"

"It's okay," Ginny murmured. "Come on, they're waiting for us. Well, you, at any rate." They continued over to Ron and Hermione in an awkward silence. As soon as Ginny had greeted Ron and Hermione, she took one of Twins' brooms and zoomed off towards the orchard.

"So, anyway," said Harry brightly, ignoring the monster in his chest, which was mourning the loss of Ginny's company. "Did you two enjoy yourselves last night?" He wasn't altogether surprised, either, when they both turned crimson.

"Yeah," said Ron eventually. "Yeah, I reckon we did."

Harry did his best not to smirk as he noticed Ron and Hermione holding hands. It's only about time, he thought.

"What did Professor Lupin want?" Hermione asked.

"The Order isn't letting me leave the Burrow without a guard. But Godrics's Hollow is being arranged. Oh, and they're going to see what they can find on R.A.B. and the locket."

"But Harry –"

"I didn't tell him everything," Harry assured them, "just what we know for sure about R.A.B. and a physical description of the locket. And that it'll help get rid of Voldemort. I think he was itching to start. Anyway, now that the pressing issue of R.A.B. has been lifted from our backs, how are we going to tell everyone that we plan to, you know, leave?"

The conversation turned quasi-military as the Golden Trio planned arrangements for their quest. Harry cast _Muffliato_ on the surrounding area so no word of this could get back to someone he didn't want it to.

"We'll need a base," Hermione insisted.

"Order HQ would be good," Ron suggested. "The only Death Eater that can possibly get in there is Snape, and he's not exactly welcome, is he?"

"Really?" Harry muttered sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed." As Snape had killed Dumbledore, not many people liked him, Harry included. Harry would have been quite happy to never set foot in 12 Grimmauld Place again, either, but then again, he had inherited the house from his godfather Sirius, and if the Order was using it as its headquarters then it was definitely one of the safest places in Britain. "Yeah. We'll stay at Headquarters."

The next item on the agenda was tactics. Ron, in a burst of practicality, asked if anyone knew how to destroy a Horcrux.

"Well, we know Basilisk venom works, but that eats through anything," Harry mused. "Besides, it's not something stocked in the average apocathery."

"What about phoenix tears?" Hermione suggested. Harry and Ron stared at her. "Well, Horcruxes are so Dark, surely something so Light and pure would counteract them?"

"Can't argue with that."

"And they're on the market," Ron informed them. "St Mungo's sells vials in its pharmacy. They're right expensive, though."

"Ron, you know I'd spend my last Knut to get rid of Voldemort," Harry pointed out. Ron looked slightly put out. Harry could have kicked himself. It wasn't nice to flaunt his wealth, which was considerable, to the Weasleys, who were considerably … not wealthy.

"We should have a back-up plan, though," Hermione said quickly, more to fill the awkward pause than anything else. "Just in case we run out, or the tears aren't handy."

"How about '_Finite incantatem_'?" Ron suggested.

"Do you really think that'll work?" Harry demanded.

"It's worth a shot," Hermione pointed out.

After discussing a few other issues, like Healing and duelling, they were surprised to see Ginny coming towards them, swatting at a non-existent fly. Harry surreptitiously removed _Muffliato_.

"Mum says that lunch is ready," Ginny announced. Where had the morning gone? "It's leftovers from last night's tea; Mum and Madame cooked too much."

The coming-of-age of the Chosen One, two weeks later, was a very big deal. Trained by early morning Quidditch practices for nearly six years, Harry's habit of waking before dawn was ingrained.

"Charlie," Ginny hissed. "Take the presents back down. Just because you all had your birthdays at Hogwarts and opened your presents in bed doesn't mean that Harry has to. He's not a Weasley. He doesn't even have red hair!"

"Yet," said the voice of one of the Twins.

"Don't you dare," snapped Ron and Ginny together.

Harry's mind boggled. He was getting presents? Ron was awake at four in the morning? Four people could fit into Ron's tiny room?

"Don't prank the poor bloke on his birthday, Fred," Hermione scolded him. "He's your backer. He might demand his money back."

"I wouldn't mind having red hair," Harry said. "And did Hermione just say 'bloke'?"

"Aurgh!" yelled everyone else in the room.

"How long have you been awake?" Ginny demanded.

"About thirty seconds."

"Were you serious about the red hair?" George asked. Make that six people in Ron's _very_ tiny room.

Harry wasn't certain that the number of Order members at his party was because it was a festive occasion and he knew them, or because it was a festive occasion about him, Harry, and therefore a target, especially since the enchantment that protected him from Voldemort wore off at midnight. Right now, he had far more interesting things to worry about. Like the fact that he had just cut his treacle tart of a cake, and the knife had hit the plate, and the nearest girl to him just happened to be Ginny Weasley. The Weasley brothers all wolf-whistled as both Harry and Ginny blushed the same shade of red as Harry's wig that the Twins refused to remove. Feeling as though he'd like nothing better than to sink through the floor, Harry kissed Ginny demurely on the cheek. Charlie rolled his eyes at Remus, who merely shrugged.

After a lovely birthday tea, Harry opened his presents. He stared at the overtly large pile. "And this is just what passed the Order's censorship," he quipped. "Where are the rest of them?"

"Returned to sender, with bonus Howler," Kingsley replied, deadpan.

Harry opened the cards from well-wishers first. Many of them were from girls he didn't know and asked for photographs. "Why didn't you return these?" Harry demanded. Neville Longbottom's card included the news that he had successfully created a hybrid of honking daffodils and the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_. Luna Lovegood's card contained the equally fascinating news that she and her father had found and captured a Crumple-horned Snorcack. She enclosed a picture; the creature looked like a cow that breathed through a snorkel. Hermione was hard-pressed to control her laughter.

Moving on to the presents, Bill and Fleur gave Harry a book on cursebreaking. Harry could see Hermione eyeing it off and knew she'd have it memorised within the fortnight. Charlie gave him dragon-hide boots – synthetic, but with all the properties of true dragon-hide. Harry glanced at the label – _Tuffasnayles_. The congratulatory letter from the Ministry of Magic was signed by P.I. Weasley, which Harry supposed was as close to a present as he was going to get from Percy. The Twins gave Harry a sampler box from their jokeshop. Ginny gave him a copy of _Quidditch Through The Ages_ for his own. Mr and – er, that is, Arthur and Molly gave him the latest Weird Sisters record.

"This is from Hermione and me," Ron announced as he handed Harry a small, flat package. Harry opened it gingerly. Cushioned in tissue paper lay a red-and-gold phoenix feather quill. "Wow," said everyone in the room.

The last package was also the largest. The note attached to it said in painfully recognizable handwriting, "To Harry. Happy birthday. Use it well." Harry's face screwed up at the familiar phrase and it took him a few seconds to collect himself. Eventually he ripped the package open. It was the Pensieve, and several vials of silvery-blue memories. "That'll be helpful," the Trio remarked as one, to the general puzzlement of everyone else in the room.

Unfortunately, Harry ended up not having a birthday outing after all. The Order persuaded him that Voldemort would be even more eager to kill him now that he was of age. He might even be expecting him to go to Godric's Hollow, and be lying in ambush. So the Trio went a full (and long) day later.

**A.N: The next chapter is about what happened at Godric's Hollow. It was originally all one chapter, but it was ridiculously long compared to the length of all of the other chapters. As always, reviews are appreciated.**


	7. Flashback And An Ambush

Unwritten Part 10

**Chapter #7 – A Flashback and an Ambush**

_Wishing you were somehow here again  
Wishing you were somehow near  
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed,  
Somehow you would be here  
**Andrew Lloyd Webber – 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again'**_

Remus Side-Along-Apparated Harry to the tiny village. Harry waited with Tonks and Kingsley while Remus went back to get Ron and Hermione. Kingsley regaled Harry and Tonks with tales from his time as the Prime Minister's secretary and magical bodyguard. "The paperwork I had to file!" he exclaimed in his deep drawl. "Muggles do the most peculiar things."

Pop! Remus was back, with Ron and Hermione clutching his arms. 'Shall we set off?" he said pleasantly, as they dropped his arm and took up each others' instead. The group appeared to be on the village green. Godric's Hollow looked to be about the same size as Ottery St Catchpole. Hermione stifled a gasp as they passed the village fountain, a statue of a man in medieval robes and wielding a sword.

"That's the same as the picture in _Hogwarts, A History_," she breathed.

"Godric's Hollow was named after Godric Gryffindor, yes," Remus agreed. Harry wasn't too sure what to make of that. Did it mean that he was distantly related to the Founder?

They walked for a long time. Harry supposed that his family had lived a fair way away from the village for security reasons.

Remus stopped them at what looked like the edge of a moor and passed a piece of very old parchment around. "Memorise but do not repeat," he advised.

_The Potter Estate may be found at 7 Lion's Lane, Godric's Hollow_

Harry understood how this sort of thing worked; it was how he had been let in on the Secret of the Order's Headquarters. He looked up and thought, _Potter Estate_, _Potter Estate_. Lo and behold, a set of grandiose iron lace gates appeared in front of him, flanked by two statues of lions. Once inside, Harry commented, "I didn't know I had an estate."

"We'll be going to Gringott's after this to settle your accounts," Tonks told him.

"And then both you and Ron will have to go to the Ministry to sit your Apparition tests," Kingsley added. Ron turned a little green.

Harry stopped walking, but not for the same reason as Ron's photosynthesis. He had caught sight of the charred remains of what had been the gatehouse, the cottage where Voldemort had killed his parents and tried to kill Harry for the first time, where the deadly curse had backfired onto Voldemort, where Hagrid and Sirius had found toddler!Harry, where Hagrid had persuaded Sirius to let him take Harry to his Aunt and Uncle on Dumbledore's orders. Harry swallowed hard; his legs felt as though they had been turned to jelly. Ron gripped his shoulder and Hermione gripped his arm – Harry's arm, not Ron's – in support. Harry closed his eyes, remembering with startling clarity the events of that Halloween night, nearly sixteen years ago. The memories came clearer than ever before.

_Harry had been sitting on the floor of the living room, playing with his multicoloured blocks while his parents snuggled on the sofa. The doorbell rang. James went to answer it as Lily Banished Harry's toys to their box and picked him up. Wormtail's snivelling voice crept indistinctly through the hall. "You little rat!" James yelled, and slammed the front door._

_Harry knew what happened next; he had known for over three years what had happened next. He heard it every time he got close to a Dementor. James shouted at Lily to get out, to run, to take Harry and run for it; he would hold Voldemort off. Lily went upstairs to the nursery and tried to barricade herself in while green light flashed all around the walls and James Potter dropped like a stone, struck down as if he had been no more than a sapling and Voldemort a hurricane._

_He hadn't begged for his life, as Voldmort had told Harry when he was eleven. Neither did Lily Potter; she begged for her son's life instead. Voldemort told her to stand aside; she didn't need to die. But Lily refused to stop shielding her son, so Voldemort killed her, too, in another flash of green light. And then, laughing, he trained his wand on Harry. He was laughing that high, cold laugh of his that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickle every time he heard it. "How could a baby vanquish me?" Voldemort scoffed. "_Avada Kedrava!_"_

_Yet Harry was still alive. Due to his mother's loving sacrifice, he had become the first recorded survivor of the unblockable Killing Curse, and a legend as great as Merlin._

_One explosion of green light like fireworks later, Harry lay in a pile of soot, staring at the phantom head glaring at him. The head hissed, "Nagini, my pet, come to me," and a gargantuan (or so it seemed to Harry-the-toddler) snake slithered up the now perilously rickety stairs. The phantom dived at the snake and disappeared. "I'll be back," whispered the now-possessed snake, and picked up Voldemort's wand in its mouth before slithering away, presumably to Albania._

_Harry heard a familiar roar and watched as a huge flying motorbike soared overhead. "Unca Sirrus!" he wailed, "Unca Sirrus!"_

_Sirius landed the motorbike where Harry's change-table had been. "Oh, Emeralds," he sighed, "What are we going to do? Lils and Prongs dead, Moony not talking to me, and Wormtail the most spineless traitor on the face of the Earth. I reckon we'd better find Dumbledore." He conjured a blanket and wrapped Harry in it, before straddling the bike. "OK, why did I park here, Emeralds? I'll be lucky to get lift-off."_

"_Fly! Fly!" Harry gurgled._

"_I'm trying, mate," Sirius muttered. "Did I mention how hard it'll be, flying this contraption with only one hand, because the other one's holding you?" He flipped a switch on the handlebar, causing the bike to hover slightly._

"_Doggy play?"_

"_When we land, Emeralds," Sirius promised him. "Right now we have to get out of here before the Muggles from the village come swarming like bees to honey."_

_But Harry and Sirius never made it Dumbledore that night, because along came Rubeus Hagrid with orders from the man himself to take Harry to Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Harry didn't like being separated from Sirius, but he calmed down once they were in the air, Sirius having lent the motorbike to Hagrid. Already Harry loved flying. However, Hagrid was not an adventurous flier and it was way past a toddler's bedtime, so he soon fell asleep._

The resultant darkness brought Harry back to his seventeen-year-old self, and he opened his eyes.

"The Muggles still don't know what happened," Remus was saying.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Hermione said. "No Memory Charms to apply."

Harry swallowed the bile in his throat. "Excuse me," he said, and ran behind a nearby oak tree so that no one would see him retch and weep. In his distraught state, however, he forgot to cast _Muffliato,_ so they could still hear him. Ron and Hermione were by his side in an instant, Ron rubbing his back. Hermione Vanished Harry's vomit and Conjured a handkerchief for him.

"I suppose the poor boy never really had any closure," he heard Tonks say to Kingsley from somewhere nearby. Suppose not.

It didn't take Harry four hours to settle his accounts. Apparently, this appointment had been scheduled since Sirius had died a year ago.

Also apparently, the vault Harry had been using since his reintroduction to the wizarding was _his_ vault, in the sense that the gold in that account was the amount set aside for him to use until he came of age. Now, the remainder of that gold had been transferred back into the main Potter account and accordingly, the main Potter vault. The total fortune was considerably larger than Harry's allowance had ever been.

"Larger?" Harry repeated. "You've got to be kidding me."

The goblin didn't look as though it was joking.

Once Harry had seen this incredible wonder, the goblin gave him a thick and glossy pamphlet entitled, _Your Money and You: What to do with your money now you finally have some_, and bade him good-day.

The next thing the group did was have lunch. The six of them sat in a booth in the Leaky Cauldron and ate the sandwiches Molly had prepared for them. The Order wasn't taking chances on Harry being poisoned, and Harry could see why – Ron had almost died on his birthday last term from a spiked drink.

After everyone but Ron had eaten their fill (Ron had the appetite of a bear) it was on to the Ministry so that Harry and Ron could take their Apparition tests. They all went in through the visitor's entrance, which was a tight squeeze considering that there were three teenagers and three adults in a single phone-booth.

"Visitor to the Ministry, please state your name and business," said the cold female voice once Remus had dialled 6-2-4-4-2.

"Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley," Remus said into the receiver. "Harry and Ron are here for their Apparition tests."

"Remus and Hermione are escorting them," Kingsley finished. 4 badges slid out of the change slot. Harry picked up his, which read, _Harry Potter, Apparition test_, and pinned it to a belt loop on his trousers.

"Watch out for the press," Tonks warned as the phone booth dropped sharply. "They're bloodhounds."

"I've met Rita Skeeter, you know," Harry pointed out.

"Although perhaps 'bloodsucker' is more appropriate in her case," Hermione remarked.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit your wands to testing," said the cool female voice. "Have a nice day." The doors opened to reveal the Atrium. It was busier than Harry had ever seen it. A group of witches and wizards stopped harassing a pair of DMLE personnel to come over and shoot questions at Harry. Harry could hardly see for all the camera flashes going off.

"Mr Potter, Mr Potter, why are you at the Ministry today?"

"How do you like Firewhisky, Mr Potter? Did you get smashed last night?"

"What are your plans for defeating You-Know-Who, Mr Potter?"

"Do you support the Ministry, Mr Potter?"

"Mr Potter, do you have a girlfriend?"

Tonks and Kingsley shepherded the Trio and Remus to the desk where the wands were tested. The wizard who manned the desk could find nothing wrong with them.

"Mr Potter, what sort of security are you under?"

"Mr Potter, is it true that you –"

Finally they made it to Apparition Testing Centre. "I reckon I need to give another interview," Harry grumbled.

Harry passed his test almost as perfectly as Hermione had done a few months before. Ron didn't do quite as well, but this time he didn't Splinch himself at all.

Harry decided it couldn't hurt to answer _one_ paparazzo as they made their way back to the visitor's entrance. "I passed!" he cried, punching the air with his fist – a fist that contained his shiny new Apparition licence. "Still, I prefer flying," he added in an undertone to Ron and Hermione. They were out of their before Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister for Magic, could say, "Lucius Marcius Memor."

**A.N: 'I'll be back' is from **_**The Terminator**_**, of course. I am aware that the last scene is similar to one in Melindaleo's **_**The Last Horcrux**_**; that is where I got the idea from. Lucius Marcius Memor was a soothsayer in Roman Bath, and he has a cool name so I used it here. I am also aware that, again, parts of this fic are very similar to the real **_**Deathly Hallows**_**. Again, those similarities are mere coincidences. Reviews are always appreciated!**


	8. Obvious

The Corrs: Love To Love You

**Chapter #8 – Something Really Obvious**

'_If it were any closer, it would bite you.'  
**My grandmother, after I couldn't find a jar of Minties in her pantry. I was seven.**_

The Trio had watched each memory from Dumbledore over and over again, at Hermione's insistence. "I just know we're missing something," Hermione sighed.

"What are we missing?"

"If I knew that, Ron, we wouldn't be missing it!"

Meanwhile, Harry was diligently trying to _not_ miss Ginny. Oh, sure, they were still good friends – better than they'd ever been before, to be frank. Still, it was a little forced.

Charlie, Bill and Fleur had to go back to work, so Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny ended up playing two-a-side Quidditch with no referee, as opposed to three-a-side Quidditch with Hermione and Fleur alternating as referee. On Ginny's birthday, they went to play Quidditch again. Harry and Ginny retrieved their brooms from the shed and zoomed off. Ron and Hermione did not follow them directly. Harry sincerely hoped that they were only conquering Ron's arachnophobia.

"This isn't flying," Harry said as they hovered in a clearing in the orchard.

"No, _this_ is flying," Ginny proclaimed, and took off, weaving between the trees with such apparent ease, Harry suddenly knew where her Chaser talents had come from. He raced after here, finally catching her in the same clearing two minutes later.

"Can we talk?" he asked, floating closer to her.

"Sure," Ginny shrugged.

"Ginny, for me, flying is second nature. I've been doing it since I was eleven. If something happens to me on a broom, Madam Pomfrey Heals me. But being with you … if I screw up, I'd lose everything I'm fighting for."

Ginny sighed. "Look, Harry, I'd much rather have a short, happy life than a long, miserable one. It's not the years that count; it's the moments – and who you spend them with."

Harry nodded.

"And I want to say thank you for giving me time and space to work through my pain. I appreciate it." She met his eye. "And … I've worked things through, and I'm not so angry. I think I've figured out what to do with you. Oh, not a Bat-Bogey hex," she added as Harry flinched away, "although you did come close to it a few times."

"Thanks. What _are_ you going to do with me?"

Ginny floated closer. "This," she said coyly, sitting side-saddle on her broom. She grabbed Harry's face and snogged him. Harry nearly fell off his Firebolt in shock.

"That's good," he said once they parted. "Now it won't be so awkward when I give you your birthday present."

Ginny had her Sweet Sixteen party with her immediate family, Harry and Hermione. Most of her brothers gave her gift-cards, but Ron was thoughtful enough to give her a figurine of Gwenog Jones, captain of Ginny's favourite Quidditch Team, the Holyhead Harpies. Hermione gave her a large box of Muggle detective novels.

"Oh, _Harry_," Ginny breathed, examining the pendant Harry gave her front and back. None of them knew it, but it looked quite like the Evenstar that Arwen gave to Aragorn in _Lord of the Rings_. "Wait – it cost 1547 galleons?"

"What? No, there shouldn't be a price on it," Harry said, frowning. "No, I didn't pay for it. An ancestor did, though, _in_ 1547."

"Oh, _Harry_," Ginny said again, and flung her arms around his neck. Harry patted her awkwardly on the back. Glad though he was that they had, quite literally, kissed and made up, he still wasn't comfortable with public displays of affection. At least not in front of Ginny's parents and many brothers. Hopefully, that would come with time. If they had it.

Harry made to stand up once she let go of him. He had been kneeling in front of Ginny, enthroned in her father's armchair, but she pushed him down again. "What about my other present?" she demanded.

"Other present?" Harry repeated, bewildered.

"Oh, I see. I'll just have to take it by force," and she grabbed his collar and kissed him again.

"Oh, _that_ other present," Harry said when they broke apart. Everyone laughed, even Ron.

One week and many 'Quidditch games' later, a letter from the Board of Governors of Hogwarts arrived. Hogwarts was reopening, but as a school of correspondence. As such, Houses were absolved, Quidditch was not going to resume and student leaders were relieved of their duties and, effectively, their titles. Since Bill worked at Gringotts in Diagon Alley, he took their booklists with him the next day and purchased their textbooks. Molly said she'd tell Professor McGonagall at the next Order meeting that Harry, Ron and Hermione would be participating in the seventh-year course.

The Trio exchanged uneasy glances at this. How were they going to keep up their studies when they had a search-and-destroy mission for four Horcruxes and, in Harry's case, a megalomaniac Dark Lord/Wanker to vanquish?

Harry woke early on September 1, feeling rather out of whack. Why wasn't his trunk packed? They were going to catch the Hogwarts at 11 o'clock from platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross, weren't they? Harry made use of his newly-legal ability to use magic, and with the aid of Summoning and Banished Charms, his trunk was half-packed before he remembered that he, like Ron and Hermione, was taking his seventh-year through correspondence.

Harry sighed. He was going to miss school life. No Sorting, no Welcoming Feast, no Welcoming Speech from Dumbledore, no Quidditch (again), no extravagant feasts, no House spirit. He even thought he might miss the classes, and watching Hermione beat out the Slytherins and anyone else who thought a Muggleborn witch had no place at Hogwarts. Harry was definitely going to miss Dumbledore, but he did that already anyway.

Wistfully, Harry unpacked his trunk again. Hogwarts had been his first real home; the first place he could remember being accepted and not labelled a freak or a burden.

At nine o'clock that morning, Professor McGonagall Floo'd over with several sheaf of parchment. "These are your assignments for the week," the stern Scotswoman told the teenagers. "Ms Weasley, you are very lucky. Your friends have already covered the work you have been set; they can help you. Potter, this is the information you requested from the Order." She handed him another, smaller stack of parchment. Harry reddened slightly as Ginny and Molly stared at him. Surely it wasn't so unusual for him to ask for help from the Order? He'd done it before, hadn't he? He'd tried to let the Order know that Sirius had been trapped in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry at Voldemort's wandpoint … only Sirius hadn't actually been there …

Don't think about that, Potter.

Molly shooed the four teenagers into the living-room, where they adopted what Alexandré Dumas would call the 'attitudes' they had developed at Hogwarts, as though they were merely doing their homework in the Gryffindor common room. Ron lay on his stomach on the hearthrug. Hermione sat in an armchair. Harry and Ginny sat on opposite ends of the settee (not the suttee, Scarlett, the settee). The only sounds to be heard until Molly announced lunch were the scratching of quills on parchment and Hermione explaining certain of the more difficult concepts to Ginny.

After lunch, they played Quidditch for an hour – no, really, this time they did – before returning to their studies. "Why didn't you tell me NEWT level studies are so hard?" Ginny demanded.

"Wait until you're a seventh-year," Ron told her. Harry privately agreed with him.

They took a break after dinner. Or rather, Ginny took a break – she went into her room and got started on one of the books Hermione had given her for her birthday. The Trio had other, non-academic work to do, regarding certain Dark objects known as Horcruxes, so they traipsed up to Ron's room at the top of the house. Hermione Imperturbed the room and Harry cast _Muffliato_ for good measure. Ron divided the stack of parchment from the Order into three and they each took a pile, sitting on the floor to rifle through them.

"Would you look at this!" Harry exclaimed, indicating his second sheet of likely names and profiles. "Sirius's little brother is on here!"

Ron merely stared at him, slack-jawed (**I've always wanted to use that phrase**) but Harry could almost see the wheels turning in Hermione's head.

"That's what we've been missing!" she gasped a few seconds later. "Ron, didn't you say that the locket looked familiar? I think we found it when we were cleaning Order Headquarters!"

Harry and Ron stared at her. "We did, too," Harry said, stunned.

"That only raises more questions," Ron pointed out. "Did Sirius throw it out? Did Kreacher save it? And if so, did Dung steal it? Does that mean he's sold it? Who did he sell it to? Have they, in turn, passed it on?"

"I'll call Kreacher and ask him," Harry decided. "Kreacher!"

A loud _crack_! sounded and the surly house-elf appeared, glaring at Harry with his arms crossed. Another loud crack later, and Dobby followed. In Harry's opinion, Dobby was the nicer elf. It was a pity that Kreacher was the one that he owned.

"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squealed, and hugged Harry's leg. Oh yes, Dobby was definitely the nicer elf.

Harry patted the elf on his tea-cosy hat. "Good to see you too, Dobby. Er, Kreacher … when we were cleaning Grimmauld Place, we found a locket. It was heavy, and made of gold, and none of us could open it. Do you know what happened to it?"

"Kreacher could not let such a treasure be thrown out," the elf muttered reluctantly. "Kreacher and Master Regulus had gone through so much to retrieve it; moving corpses and terrible Potions and blood sacrifices. Master Regulus said the treasure used to belong to Slytherin himself. The snake proved it; the snake on the front was Slytherin's mark. Kreacher kept the treasure."

"What did Regulus do to the locket?" Harry demanded. "Did he take any enchantments off? Tell the truth, now!"

"Master Regulus did not tell Kreacher what he did to the locket before he passed away."

Just to make sure, Harry fleetingly showed the note to Kreacher. "Is this Regulus's handwriting?" Kreacher nodded. "Where is the locket, Kreacher?"

"In Kreacher's room," the elf muttered defensively.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Bring it here!" Harry commanded. Kreacher disappeared immediately.

"Dobby will follow Kreacher and make sure Kreacher doesn't do anything bad," Dobby announced, and disappeared with the customary crack.

"That wasn't very nice to Kreacher, Harry," Hermione said pointedly.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron said. "Kreacher isn't very nice himself."

"Why should I be nice to anyone who helped in Sirius's death?" Harry snarled.

"…Oh," said Hermione wittily.

_Crack_! The house-elves were back, Kreacher holding the heavy golden locket with and 'S' on it that, the last time the Trio saw it, no one had been able to open.

"You can touch it," Harry remarked, "and we can touch it. I don't think it has many enchantments left on it. You can go now," he added to the house-elves as he took the locket from Kreacher's long, bony finger. In that instant, it looked as though it was being taken back from Lord Voldemort himself. Harry shook off that disquieting notion as the house-elves disappeared with two loud cracks.

Hermione examined the locket under Scarpin's Revelaspell. "Just the Horcrux and a Permanent Sticking Charm," she announced. "See that black swirling thing? That's the Horcrux. The yellow aura is the Permanent Sticking Charm."

"Should we let Bill take a squiz?" Ron asked. "He _is_ a curse-breaker, after all."

"Aren't he and Fleur coming over for Sunday lunch?" Hermione asked. "We could ask him then."

"In the meantime, we need to get Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears," Harry reminded them. "Only, I don't think we should use Basilisk venom on relics of the Hogwarts Founders. They _are_ really valuable. You didn't see the twisted mess the diary turned into when I stabbed it, Hermione. I don't want the author of _Hogwarts, a History_ coming after me with a pitchfork, or, more likely, a branch of Gubrathian fire."

"I'm surprised that Dumbledore didn't give you his memory of destroying the Horcrux in the ring," Hermione remarked.

"So anyway, what are we going to do now that we've solved the mystery of R.A.B.?" Ron asked.

"Ah," said Harry, stumped. "I don't know," he admitted. "We could always try that orphanage. There might be something there. And the Riddle house – you know, where he and Wormtail and Nagini stayed during the Triwizard Tournament – that might be worth a shot."

"We also have to find that other Horcrux, the one we don't know anything about," Ron pointed out.

"We know that it was something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's, but it's not Gryffindor's sword," Hermione summarised.

"Maybe it's the Sorting Hat?" Ron suggested. "Didn't it once say that it used to belong to Gryffindor?"

Harry and Hermione stared at him. "Well, that would explain why it keeps telling me I'd do well in Slytherin," Harry muttered.

"Say again?" said Ron sharply.

Harry jumped. Had he said that out loud? "I said, no thanks," he said defensively.

"May I pitch in here?" Hermione interrupted. "Somehow, I rather doubt the Sorting Hat is a Horcrux. It would have possessed the first person to try it on. And anyway, whoever heard of a Horcrux that sings songs in front of large crowds of people?"

"It was worth a try," Ron grumbled.

Harry shrugged. "I just want to know how Regulus found the locket in the first place," he mused.

"Well, didn't you say that the boat didn't register your power because you were underage? It probably wouldn't have recognised Kreacher's power, either, because he's a house-elf."

That made sense. "I reckon Regulus must have drunk the potion," Harry commented.

"Seems like it to me," Ron agreed. "That might've been what did him in."

The Trio woke at dawn the morning after this exceedingly productive evening. They tiptoed out to the orchard, where they practiced duelling for an hour, before Healing all injuries and traipsing back into the house for breakfast and schoolwork. They had decided on this new daily routine the night before.

In actual fact, they and Ginny were luckier than most. Now that she wasn't running a school as such, Professor McGonagall often popped in for a cuppa and a chat with Molly, so she explained some of the concepts to the Dream Team. Not to mention, the Trio had already covered Ginny's work, so they could help her if the need arose.

Sunday dinner ended up not happening at the Burrow, due to the increase in Death Eater attacks. Instead it was held at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, 12 Grimmauld Place. The Order had recently moved back into it. Several members attended, mainly for Mrs Weasley's wonderful cooking. (Really, the things that that woman could do to the traditionally bland English fare were amazing. Who knew that salt-and-pepper in mashed potatoes could give it that much more of a taste?)

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Remus asked Harry.

"We found it, yeah," Harry replied. "Thanks."

After the meal, the Trio drew Bill into the, um, drawing room. "We need your help," Harry said abruptly, pulling the locket out of his pocket.

"Is that _Slytherin's_ mark?" Bill demanded.

"Yeah," Ron admitted. "See, it has a massively Dark enchantment on it –"

"– which we need to lift," Hermione continued. "But it also has a Permanent Sticking Charm on it –"

"– which might be the only thing keeping the Dark enchantment in there and relatively harmless," Harry finished.

Bill stared at them. "I swear, you three are worse than Fred and George. So, what is it that you want me to do, exactly? You want me to lift this enchantment that I don't know anything about, and is potentially lethal?"

"Er, that's the general idea, yes," Harry confessed.

"I _love_ doing this," Bill said. Ron grinned. "You might want to put up some Shield Charms, though. This wouldn't have anything to do with what Dumbledore was doing the night Greyback attacked me, would it?"

"Actually, it has everything to do with it," Harry said reluctantly.

"So, this will help stop Voldemort?"

"Er ... it'll help get rid of him."

"So the Order should know about it?"

"Bill," Ron groaned. "Dumbledore didn't tell the Order exactly what he was planning on doing that night, did he?"

"Well, no, but –"

"So if _he_ didn't tell the Order," Hermione cut in smoothly, "why should we be expected to break his confidence?"

"Ah," said Bill flatly. "Are you ready with those Shield Charms?"

"Have I ever told you that you're my favourite brother?" Ron asked.

Half an hour later, Voldemort had one less fragment of soul existing outside of his body.

"Whew," said Bill as they traipsed back downstairs. "You weren't kidding about the Darkness."

"Trust me, that was about as Dark as it's possible to be," Harry told him soberly. Bill still didn't know exactly what he had done.

"Harry, dear," Mrs Weasley said as they re-entered the dining room, "the Order would like you to stay here at Headquarters for your safety.

"Really?" said Harry, unsurprised. "I think that's a good idea."

Crickets, crickets.

"As long as it's all right for Ron, Hermione and Ginny to stay as well," he added. "Otherwise I'd be awfully bored, what with not being allowed to attend meetings and all."

"That sounds more like the Harry we know and love," Tonks grinned.

Molly, Arthur and Kingsley Disapparated and returned a few minutes later with the teenagers' trunks. The Order wasn't just orderly in name.

The golden Trio moved into the attic. It was almost a complete suite by itself; two bedrooms, a sitting room and a bathroom. They came downstairs for meals and to socialise with Order members, but that was about it.

The Order itself caught on quite quickly. Whatever it was that the Trio was working on, it was important, because, according to Harry, it would have killed Dumbledore if Snape hadn't speeded things up a little. It was also top-secret, and the Trio would respect their privacy if the Order respected the Trio's. The Horcrux Hunt (TM) would have been the Trio's Order assignment had they been members, but the Order was sticking to its rule that all its members had to have left school.

**A.N: As always, any similarities to the real DH are coincidences. And as always, reviews are always appreciated.**


	9. Help Me

**Chapter #9 – The Second Hardest Thing – Help Me**

_Someone told me love would all save us,  
But how can that be, look what love gave us,  
A world full of killing, and blood-spilling  
That world never came  
**Nickelback – 'Hero'**_

The Trio's daily routine didn't change much with their shift to Headquarters. In fact, the only significant change was that, instead of an hour of Quidditch after lunch, they had an hour of duelling practice with whatever Order members happened to be at HQ at the time. If Harry concentrated hard enough, he almost felt as though he was in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, rather than a musty old house where his late Godfather had been cooped up in for a year with only Kreacher as constant company.

At Halloween, Harry told the Order that the Trio needed to go somewhere that wasn't HQ, but was still in London – Muggle London, and that a guard would only get in the way. It was also vitally important to their pseudo-assignment. Miraculously, the Order agreed, on the condition that they didn't do anything reckless (from Remus), that they practised constant vigilance (from Mad-Eye Moody) and that they kept to the Statute of Secrecy as best they could (from Kingsley).

London is a very old city. In fact, it's been there since before the Romans invaded Britain. Some parts of it haven't changed much for years (except for technological advances like running water and electricity). The orphanage where Tom Riddle grew up was no exception. The only differences in the street from Dumbledore's 1930s memory of it and its current appearance were in the fashion and the posters in the shop windows, which no longer screamed 'The Great Depression'. The Trio walked through the same iron gates, across the still-bare courtyard, and up the same three steps to the front door, upon which Ron knocked shave-and-a-hair-cut.

The door opened a few moments later to reveal a short platinum blonde. "Yes?" she said.

"Hi, we're from the council," Hermione lied affably. "Just a routine inspection. May we come in?"

"The kids are all at school," the girl said suspiciously.

"We're building inspectors," Hermione assured her.

The girl let them in reluctantly. Although the Trio really only needed to look at Riddle's old room – or at least, that burning wardrobe – they didn't want to appear out of place or 'not thorough' so they examined all the walls, floors, ceilings, cupboards and a few nooks and crannies the blonde didn't seem to know had existed.

The wardrobe was in the attic. Unfortunately, it was also empty.

"Should we go to St Mungo's while we're outside, before we head back?" Ron asked. Hermione agreed immediately but Harry insisted on wearing his Invisibility Cloak.

"Whew!" Ron whistled as they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. "37 Galleons a vial; a bit steep, don't you think?"

"A few drops Healed my arm in the Chamber," Harry shrugged.

"We know that, Harry, but you're not totally Dark," Hermione pointed out.

"One would hope," Harry muttered.

"What's got your wand in a knot, mate?" Ron asked as they climbed the stairs and bypassed a scowling Kreacher.

Harry sighed. "Uncle Vernon kept threatening to send me to an orphanage," he explained. "I can't help but wonder how I'd have turned out if he had."

"The only thing that would change would be that you wouldn't think you had to do everything by yourself," Ginny said pointedly, poking her head out of her bedroom.

Harry flushed uncomfortably. "Hi, Ginny."

"Your little outing today wouldn't have anything to do with Horcruxes, would it?"

The Trio stared at her. "Where did – how you – how much to do you –" Hermione spluttered.

"Fred and George improved the Extendables," Ginny explained. "V2.0 can get through Imperturbable Charms."

"Ginny," said Ron weakly, "that's a total violation of people's privacy!"

"Come on," said Harry, ushering his girlfriend up the stairs to the attic. "If you know bits of it, you may as well know the whole story."

"He split his soul," Ginny repeated, aghast. "That's what possessed me? A bit of his _soul_?"

"Well, yeah," said Harry awkwardly.

"And you didn't tell me? Why didn't anyone tell me? Don't you think a person has a right to know exactly what possessed them?" Ginny demanded. "Merlin's beard, Harry, the thing could have transferred to me!"

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. Harry could only stare at Ginny in shock.

Hermione, on the other hand, kept her head enough to be practical. "I doubt it. The Riddle from the diary disappeared when Harry stabbed the diary, so it must have still been part of the diary. But I'll double-check – _Specialis revelio_! No, it didn't transfer."

"What did that spell do?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"It reveals magic," Ron said simply. "If there was a big black blob anywhere in you, we'd know that the Horcrux had transferred.

"As it is, though, you just have a very Light, very pure aura," Hermione finished. "_Finite_."

"Me, pure?" Ginny scoffed. "_Me_, pure? After what happened with the diary? Not bloody likely."

"Ginny," Hermione said patiently, "your Patronus is a unicorn. Of course you're still pure."

"Hermione," said Harry, struck by a certain thought, "check _me_. My scar, I mean. It could be a Horcrux, because there's that link between me and Voldemort – and Dumbledore _said_ Voldemort put a bit of himself in me, right after the Chamber – and that was before Occlumency lessons, even."

"But how would we get it out of you?" Ron asked. All three of the others looked horrified. "I mean, you've been poisoned with Basilisk venom, and you've had Fawkes cry on you, and we don't know any other way to get rid of Horcruxes, except for what Bill did, and that only works on inanimate objects."

"_Specialis revelio_," Hermione said, and they all had to squint because Harry's aura was so Light it was blinding. Hermione Conjured herself a pair of sunglasses and examined the magic in Harry's scar, and the rest of his body as well, just to make sure. She ended the spell and shook her head. "You are officially Horcrux-free," she announced. "The magic in your scar is a very dark brown, so I think it's a remnant of that first failed Killing Curse. And your aura – wow!"

"Phew," Ron said, miming wiping a sweaty brow. "For a moment there, we were really worried.

Having a new perspective on things really helped the cause. Harry found he enjoyed their skull sessions much more when Ginny moved up to the attic. Not only was she a welcome distraction from Ron and Hermione's handholding, but Harry really enjoyed her company. Also, on the academic side of things, the Trio were consolidating their sixth-year work, while Ginny zoomed through it. Plus, she and Harry duelled very well together, at least against Ron and Hermione.

Almost before Harry knew it, it was snowing outside and the Order offered him a guard so he could go Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley. Where had the last few months gone?

"We're not going to do a thing about the Horcruxes all week," Harry announced. "We'll just play Exploding Snap."

"And chess," Ron added.

"And Gobstones," Ginny piped up.

"And do our holiday homework," Hermione reminded them. The others replied with a resounding groan and a pillow-fight.

Molly outdid herself with Christmas Eve dinner that year. The table literally groaned under the weight of all the food. Even the formal dining room wasn't big enough to seat all the Order members who turned up. (When it came to resisting Voldemort, that was a good thing. When it came to comfort, it wasn't.) So everyone just milled around, eating and chatting good-naturedly.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, Harry's Weird Sisters record was put on and almost everyone started to dance. Fred and George enchanted a sprig of mistletoe to fly around. Big surprise: the first couple it hovered over was Ron and Hermione, much to the wolf-whistles, cat-calls and laughter from all who knew them.

Harry felt very content as he danced with Ginny. They were playing a record, not the Wireless, so there would be no breaking news reports of Death Eater attacks, if the Death Eaters were sick enough to attack on Christmas Eve. He, Harry, was surrounded by people he knew and liked, and he was holding Ginny, which made him feel _really_ good. For one of the first times since he'd found out who had murdered his parents, Harry's thoughts were nowhere near Voldemort.

Harry woke later than usual the next day, about half an hour after dawn broke. He lay in his toasty warm bed for a few minutes, watching the snowflakes swirl around outside the window. If there hadn't been a Permanent Sticking Charm on every window of the house (except the one above the kitchen sink that the post-owls came through) Harry would have opened this one and stuck his tongue out to catch some of them. The snowflakes, that is, not the post-owls.

"Knock-knock," Hermione and Ginny chorused from the other side of the door.

"Come in," Ron called as he and reluctantly got out of bed and put their slippers on.

"Are you decent?" Ginny demanded as the doorknob turned.

'Yeah, but still cold," Harry said.

The door opened and the girls entered. "Let me warm you up," Ginny suggested, smiling coyly. And Ron couldn't do a thing about it, because Hermione was occupying all of his attention.

The Weasleys, both true and honorary, spent most of the day in the living room, sipping hot chocolate, toasting marshmallows and exchanging presents. Harry received his annual Weasley jumper (dark red with a yellow stripe across his chest), a working model of a Quidditch pitch which replayed famous games that the Weasley brothers must have pools their money for, as it was from all of them, a stationary set from Hermione, and a real Golden Snitch and a kiss from Ginny.

On Boxing Day, about an hour before Professor McGonagall was due to arrive with their next load of schoolwork, Ginny let out a shriek. "I've got it!" she cried, and hustled the Trio up to the attic.

"Got what?" the Trio asked as one. Living in such close proximity as they did had allowed them to almost perfectly synchronise their thoughts.

"Well," said Ginny, obviously gearing herself up to tell a long and involved story, "because I haven't been so tired every night lately that I just fall into bed, I've had a chance to read some more of those detective novels that Hermione gave me for my birthday. Something bugged me about the last one I read, and I just realised what it was. See, the story was; there was this crime lord, and he'd stolen a small but valuable painting, and the police came to his house with a search warrant. They searched his whole house; every nook and cranny, every safe, and they didn't find it. The crime lord offered them tea of coffee or something and the inspector noticed a thick envelope between two books on the mantelpiece – and the painting was inside it. It had been hidden in plain sight."

"What's this got to do with anything?" Ron demanded.

"Well, the painting might never have been found if the inspector wasn't a stamp-collector," Ginny explained. "What if Hufflepuff's cup is exactly where it should be – the Hogwarts trophy room?"

The Trio stared at her, too shocked to say a word.

"I know, it's stupid," Ginny muttered. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"No, it's – it's a really good theory," Harry said, grasping her hand and squeezing it. Ginny smiled widely.

"We'll ask Professor McGonagall, when she comes, if we can go to Hogwarts and check," said Hermione firmly. "I had a feeling it would be a good idea to include you in this, Ginny."

What's more, Ginny turned out to be right.

"I cleaned that," Ron said, staring at the cup. "In second year, my detention, when I was still burping up slugs."

"Why do things from previous years come back?" Hermione mused as they went back to the attic of HQ. "Honestly, at this rate, we'll meet Umbridge next time we go to the Ministry. Where did you put the Phoenix tears, Harry?"

"They're in the cupboard under the bathroom sink," Harry said, "hidden in the cardboard cylinder of a loo roll."

"Lovely," Ginny commented. "Er, why aren't we using Basilisk venom?"

"It ate through the diary completely," Harry explained. "We don't want to destroy a relic of one of the Founders. Plus, Phoenix tears are really pure, so we're hoping that they'll counteract the Darkness of the Horcrux."

Hermione cast Scarpin's Revelaspell on the cup. There, in the bowl, lay the black 'blob' of magic that was a Horcrux. It was kind of hard to distinguish from the pulsating, multicoloured mass of other enchantments and the canary yellow aura. Harry tipped a few tear drops into the bowl of the cup, and the Dream Team watched as the shining droplets merged with the Horcrux. They only just managed to erect a Shield Charm in time to prevent permanent blindness from the soundless explosion of light.

"That was easy," Ron remarked.

Harry announced after dinner that something was still bothering him. "Why am I not a Horcrux? It made complete sense that I would be."

"When has anything ever followed logic when it comes to you?" Ron pointed out.

"Didn't you say that Dumbledore said that Voldemort didn't intend to transfer some of his powers to you?" Hermione said thoughtfully. "Intent is needed to cast the Killing Curse; I'm sure it's needed to follow up with a Horcrux."

"I had a flashback at Godric's Hollow," Harry said, more to himself than to his friends. "I don't recall Voldemort making me a Horcrux then, and that would have been his only chance. He possessed me at the Ministry –"

"What?" said Ginny sharply.

" – he wouldn't have needed to do that if I was a Horcrux," Harry went on, not listening, "he tried to kill me in the graveyard; why kill your Horcrux? You'd risk losing your bit of soul too, wouldn't you?"

"Voldemort possessed you?" Ginny repeated pointedly.

Harry came back down to Earth with a bump. "Er, yeah," he admitted.

"What was it like?"

Harry blinked. He'd been expecting another 'Why didn't you tell me?' "It was beyond painful," he said. "He made me tell Dumbledore to kill me. It was like our souls had been fused together with a blowtorch."

"With a what?" said a clearly bemused Ron.

"I _wanted_ him to kill me, I was in such agony," Harry continued, ignoring Ron. "And then I could follow Sirius … but Voldemort couldn't take it when I thought about Sirius so he left me."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Ginny demanded, and touched his wand-tip to his right temple, drawing from it a silvery strand of memory, which he floated over to the empty Pensieve on the coffee table. "Something else happened that night. It'll be easier if I show you."

The memory ran from when Dumbledore bade Harry to sit, to when he had confirmed the kill-or-be-killed part of the Prophecy.

"And before you asked the power I have is, that Voldemort doesn't," Harry said, once the Dream Team returned to the living room and Ginny's face returned to its normal colour rather than ashen grey, "let me show you." And he showed them the next and final full-blown conversation he had had with Dumbledore about the Prophecy, the one that took place after they had confirmed the existence of Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Now Harry, who wasn't too bright when it came to girls, had no idea why Hermione was looking at him like she looked at her cat Crookshanks when he chased gnomes, nor why Ginny slapped him, called him a daft prat and then proceeded to snog him.

Harry asked Ron about it when they were settling down to sleep, but Ron didn't know either.

**A.N: I have always hated the idea of Harry as a Horcrux. For the purposes of this story, there was no bit of Voldie's soul that splintered off – what's in Harry's scar is the remnant of that first, failed Killing Curse (which acts as immunisation against all subsequent Killing Curses, as Harry lives with a tiny portion of one inside him.) Anyway … yes, the Trio have included Ginny in their quest. I was quite annoyed that that didn't happen in canon. I was also quite annoyed that the cup wasn't in the trophy room like I thought. Ah well. I did get certain other things right (coughSeverus/Lilycough). As always, any similarities between this and the real DH were extremely good guesses on my part. (Aren't I modest?) Not that I can find too many similarities between this chapter and the real DH …**

**Reviews are always appreciated!**


	10. Eggs, Eggs and Eggs?

ABBA: Knowing Me, Knowing You

**Chapter #10 – Eggs, Eggs, and … Eggs?**

_It's still the same old story  
A fight for love and glory  
A case of do or die  
The world will always welcome lovers  
As time goes by  
__**Frank Sinatra – 'As Time Goes By'**_

No further developments occurred in the Dream Team's vanquishing-Voldemort quest for a few months. On the other hand, Valentine's Day and Easter were fairly interesting.

On Valentine's Day, several major things happened. The first was Molly and Arthur's silver wedding anniversary. Harry gave them a set of ornate silver wine-goblets. The Weasley children tried not to notice the 'sappy' adoring looks their parents kept exchanging. The second was that Bill and Fleur announced that they were expecting a child. Molly almost fainted. The third was that Ron gave Hermione a promise ring. Ginny almost fainted at that. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the two girls would stay up past midnight that night chatting. The fourth was Molly and Arthur's reaction to Harry's present for Ginny, a jewellery box in the style of a Fabergé egg.

On his way up to bed, Harry's attention was drawn to the slightly ajar door of Molly and Arthur's bedroom. His curiosity getting the better of him, he unravelled an Extendable Ear.

"I'm telling you Arthur, it's getting very serious! They're up there in that attic, day in, day out, doing Merlin knows what with no supervision –"

"Molly, her marks have soared, and whatever it is that they're doing, it'll help get rid of You-Know-Who–"

"That's not what I mean, Arthur," Molly snapped. "Harry's given her _very_ expensive gifts–"

"Molly, if the boy can give them, let him. You've always wanted Ginny to have pretty things, haven't you?"

"Oh, Arthur," Molly sighed. "I just don't want to see her hurt again."

"Molly!" Arthur exclaimed. "This is _Harry_ we're talking about! He's in love with her!"

If only I could find the courage to tell her that, Harry thought, yanking the Ear back to himself. He'd heard enough.

Come Easter, Fleur was beginning to show, and there was another new member of the Order: Bill's old penpal from Brazil, who was staying at Headquarters. Harry received quite a shock when the man's luggage arrived. There in a cage was an animal Harry had never expected to see again, much less in a cage – the boa constrictor he had accidentally set free from the zoo on Dudley's eleventh birthday.

"_So you made it to Brazil_?" he said in Parseltongue. Everyone in the room turned to stare at him as he crouched beside the cage.

"_Yess_," the snake hissed back. "_I never thought I'd return to chilly Britain_."

Harry shrugged. "_Not everything will go your way in life_," he reminded the snake. "_Good to see you again, though_."

"_And you, my liberator_."

"_Do you have a name_?"

"_My name iss Ophiss_," Ophis told him.

"_Ophis_," Harry repeated. "_I'm Harry_."

"_Let me sniff your hand, amigo_," Ophis hissed. Harry put his hand through the bars of the cage and started when Ophis ran his tongue over his hand. "_You are powerful, amigo, very powerful_."

"_So I've been told_," Harry conceded.

"You know my Opal?" the Brazilian asked.

"I set him free from a Surrey zoo," Harry said in English as he withdrew his hand from the cage. "It was accidental magic. I was ten. And he says his name is Ophis."

Harry knew that his fellow Dream Team members were the only ones in the room who had seen his speak Parseltongue, but everyone else's wary eyes made him slightly uncomfortable.

"_Do not be afraid to be who you are_," Ophis hissed.

Having Ophis around was a real bonus in the way of getting closer to Nagini, Voldemort's pet snake and one of his Horcruxes. At first Harry didn't recognise the diamond-scaled beauty Ophis hissed of, but when he revealed the name of the venomous snake, Harry realised how Ophis could help his cause. Ophis was so grateful to his liberator – and so full of hatred towards the one adding to the fear, mistrust and loathing of snakes – that he agreed readily.

Luckily, Voldemort allowed a friendship to form between Ophis and Nagini. Two weeks later, Ophis gave Nagini a present – a snack of that new delicacy, Phoenix tears. An unfortunate repercussion of this was that Ophis was now in danger of losing his life, should he venture outside 12 Grimmauld Place. But that was OK, because Ophis then turned his attention to helping Hedwig and Crookshanks train Pigwedgeon out of his hyperactivity. Harry then had an example to stump Ron with, when he tried to infer that all snakes were evil.

The next thing the Golden Trio had to do was to sit their NEWTS, which they did in May. "Nastily exhausting is right," Ron said afterwards when he was able to speak again. Even Hermione, the Queen of Exams, was shaken.

As Ginny and the Twins helped them recover, Harry commissioned the Order to conduct a search on objects that Voldemort, at any point of his life, had had contact with., particularly if they were connected with Voldemort. "I still think we're missing something," Hermione said, worried.

"The last Horcrux? We all know _that_," Ron said.

"Actually, we don't. That's the problem," Harry pointed out.

"No, it's not that," said Hermione as Ginny handed her a mug of steaming hot chocolate. "It's to do with it, but it's not it, exactly."

"Makes sense to me," Ginny shrugged as Hermione consulted _Hogwarts, a History_ for the fifty-seventh time since Halloween.

Harry supposed it must have been another of those female intuition things, because one look at Ron's face told Harry that Hermione's statement hadn't made one jot of sense to Ron, either.

"Aha," said Hermione two hours later, but she didn't seem too pleased. "Rowena Ravenclaw ordered all her possessions to be burnt with her on her funeral pyre."

"Bugger," said Ron. "Another dead end."

Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Harry thought dully. "So, what now?" he asked. "We're stuck, at least until the Order gets back to us with that information that even Dumbledore didn't disclose –"

"Knock, knock," came a familiar voice from the other side of the (locked) door.

Harry cast a non-verbal Unlocking spell over his shoulder and the door opened to reveal Remus and Tonks, each hardly able to see over the towering stacks of parchment they carried.

"Let us take that," said Ron hastily as Tonks almost dropped her stack. The Dream Team hurried forwards and relieved the two Order members of their awkward load.

"You know, you guys really have excellent timing," Harry told them. "We'd just hit a dead end with the information we had."

"And that's all you're going to tell us, isn't it?" sighed Remus ruefully.

"Absolutely," Ginny smiled sweetly, and began to shoo them out.

"We didn't go into personal hygiene," Tonks said as they crossed the threshold again. "There's only so much icky-ness we can take."

Hermione stared at the four half-stacks of parchment on the coffee table as the door slammed shut. Harry locked it again. "Whew. Voldemort certainly got around a lot."

A fortnight later, once they'd sorted through every object on the exhaustingly extensive list, one thing kept jumping out at Harry.

_Neither as Tom Riddle, not as Lord Voldemort, had the Dark Wanker ever been seen without his wand._

Harry told himself it wasn't important. Most witches and wizards kept their wands close at all times. Harry himself felt almost naked without his. And yet, Harry remembered Voldemort's strange habit of twirling his wand between his long, bony fingers.

Harry suddenly had a very sincere reason to hope that when Ollivander had gone missing eighteen months ago, he had not been kidnapped so he could make Voldemort a new wand, because the connection between Harry's wand and Voldemort's wand was the only thing that had saved Harry the last time Voldemort had tried to cast the Killing Curse on him.

"All right there, mate?" Ron asked, looking and sounding rather anxious. "You look a bit worried."

"I think the last Horcrux is Voldemort's wand," Harry announced, to be met with blank faces from the rest of the Dream Team. "No, really, doesn't it make sense? Who would suspect it? Even if someone did guess, the Dark Wanker is so cock-sure of himself that he'd never expect anyone to Disarm him."

"You know, you just might have something there," Hermione said thoughtfully. Harry smiled. If Hermione felt confident enough to say that, it was as good as confirmed.

Then Ron brought up the Ollivander issue.

The next morning, after breakfast, Ginny asked, "How are we going to arrange a confrontation between you and Voldemort, Harry? I mean, don't they usually just happen, you know, due to circumstances beyond your control?"

Harry was stumped. Luckily, Ron wasn't. "Write him a letter," he suggested. "Only, don't send it with Hedwig. You don't want him to kill her."

"That's a great idea, Ron, but how am I supposed to get it to him, then?" Harry demanded.

"You could Vanish it," Hermione suggested. "Don't you remember? When she taught us about it, Professor McGonagall said that you could hone the spell to send the object somewhere. I think the incantation was '_Evanesco ad…_' and then you just say the place you want to send the object to."

"I reckon I'd have to practise that," Harry said, remembering his block about Summoning Charms when he really, really, needed to be able to perform them. He pointed his wand at a blank piece of parchment that had fallen to the floor. "_Evanesco ad_ the coffee table." The parchment Vanished and reappeared a split second later on top of _Quidditch Through The Ages_.

"Wicked," Ron breathed. Hermione and Ginny were smiling, too.

"I suppose I'll have to write that letter, now," Harry said. He grabbed the parchment and his phoenix feather quill, which he stroked his chin with as he tried to figure out what to write. Finally, with much help from Ron and Ginny (who proved beyond all reasonable doubt that they had indeed grown up in the same house as Fred and George), Harry decided to send the final version as a Howler. Hermione agreed to magically record his voice.

_Tom, old mate. Long time, no see, you old snake. It's been nearly two years! Have you been keeping count? I have. Have you missed me? Stupid question, of course you have. Anyway, Dumbledore told me something very interesting about you before he died, and I'm just burning to see if it's true. Why don't we meet for a little chat? Say, Stonehenge, on June 1. Hope you don't mind if I bring a few friends. Love and kisses, Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, etc. P.S. Bring your wand._

Hermione sealed the recording into another sheet of parchment. The Dream Team moved the living room furniture to the walls, freeing up a lot of space, and spent the rest of the day duelling. They all had to take showers before going down to Sunday dinner, where Harry passed around a copy of the letter he had sent to Voldemort. Almost everyone in the room burst out laughing, before roundly assuring the Dream Team that they wouldn't miss the 'chat' for all the gold in Gringotts.

Due to their exhaustive afternoon and Mrs Weasley's – Molly's! – fine cooking, the Dream Team didn't stay up that night much past dinner to play Exploding Snap. They fell straight into their beds instead.

**A.N. I don't recall seeing a single fic where the last Horcrux was Voldemort's wand. Like I said, I really don't like the idea of Harry as a Horcrux. Apologies for the delay in posting this, I went on a school exchange trip and I'm still getting over the jet lag.**

**I just realised that my timeline might be a little confusing, so here is an outline.**

**Chapter #1 – the same day that HBP ended, just a few hours later  
****Chapter #2 – the next day  
****Chapter #3 – spans a fortnight  
****Chapter #4 – starts and ends the same day/night Chapter #3 left off  
****Chapter #5 – takes place during Chapter #4  
****Chapter #6 – starts the day after Chapter #4 ends, then jumps to a fortnight later (Harry's birthday)  
****Chapter #7 – the next day, with a flashback to Halloween 1981  
****Chapter #8 – starts about a fortnight before Ginny's birthday, ends at the beginning of October  
****Chapter #9 – starts where Chapter #8 left off, ends on New Years. (I think it has the most jumps between major events of the whole story)  
****Chapter #10 – starts on Valentine's Day, goes to Easter (which I've placed at the end of March) then NEWTS (middle of April) then Harry's epiphany about the wand (end of April)  
****Chapter #11 – will start at the end of May  
****Chapter #12 will hopefully be a little better than DH's Epilogue, though it serves the same purpose. Eh.  
Then I have an outtake that didn't really fit into Chapter 12, so I will post it as a separate story.**

**This has been a ridiculously long A.N. so I'll shut up now and let you review :D**


	11. Side Of A Bullet

**Chapter #11 – Side of a Bullet**

_How could you take his life away?  
(What made you think you had the right?)  
How could you be so full of hate?  
(To take away somebody's life)  
And when I heard you let him die  
And made the world all wonder why  
I sat at home and on my own, I cried alone  
__I scratched your name into the side of a bullet  
__**Nickelback – 'Side of a Bullet'**__  
_

Since Harry sent the Howler to Voldemort on May 31, the Order had nearly one month in which to prepare, and Voldemort had only one day. Hermione remarked that that made Harry almost as evil as Voldemort.

"No it doesn't!" Harry protested, sending his spoon squelching into his porridge. "It's more time than _I_ ever had to prepare – well, excepting the Triwizard Tournament," he added as an afterthought, "although that wasn't really against Voldemort, not directly at least."

Nearly ten months of intensive, gruelling activity had left its mark on the Dream Team. Not one of them had a single ounce of body fat left; their bodies were now lean and muscular. Hermione and Ginny, however, didn't look quite as built as Harry and Ron, mainly because female muscles never develop to be as big as male muscles. (Evolution has a long way to go when it comes to equalling the sexes.) That's not to say that Hermione and Ginny _minded_; in actual fact, they probably didn't notice. They were too busy ogling their respective boyfriends, and (in Ginny's case) blushing very prettily when caught. Harry, of course, ritually punished her with a kiss, much to Ron's chagrin.

In his month of preparation, Harry figured out how he was going to get Voldemort's wand, and how he was going to 'love him to death,' as Ginny had put it once. Obviously, his strategy for actually getting the wand came first, and if Harry hadn't spent most of this year with Ron the Chess King and Ginny the Chatterbox, he might never have come up with it.

Ron was a brilliant chess-player because he knew his pieces very well and he knew loads of strategies. He was also very adept at manipulating his opponents into making some truly terrible mistakes. Harry resolved to think of the Order as his chess pieces, and Voldemort as his opponent, with the Death Eaters as his pieces.

Ginny was a chatterbox. But with the diary, Riddle took away her tongue. That Riddle had seemed perfectly happy to just talk (at least until he set the Basilisk on Harry, anyway.) Maybe, if Harry _talked_ to Voldemort and had him answer a few questions, he could distract him for long enough for someone to Disarm him. Once Harry had Voldemort's wand, he would pour a few drops of Phoenix tears onto it, and then he could finally fulfil that damn Prophecy. He _did_ want Voldemort dead, and he _did_ want to be the one who killed him.

When his fellow Dream Team members and the Order pressed him about how actually was going to vanquish the Dark Wanker, however, Harry held his tongue, not revealing a single detail except that his plan involved Legilemency and Apparition.

June 1st dawned bright and sunny. Harry woke early, like normal, took a shower, like normal, and had breakfast, like normal, all the while feeling anything _but_ normal. He'd had to take a Sleeping Potion the night before to get to sleep. Currently he was jumping from one foot to the other, in time with the beat of a Weird Sisters song, trying to cool his nerves. He was fairly sure his plans would work, but to get up the Gryffindor courage to actually carry them through was another matter entirely.

Ginny, once she figured out what was wrong with Harry, led him to the room he shared with Ron, who was pulling on his shoes. Ginny shooed her brother out, closed the door and made Harry take off his robes and shirt, then lie on his stomach on his bed. Harry had no clue what Ginny was going to do until her warm hands began to kneed his tense back.

Later, as they walked hand-in-hand downstairs, Ginny apologised for her amateur massage. Harry assured her it had been like heaven on Earth. Luckily no one else (like Ron) heard, or they may have gotten the wrong idea.

* * *

"Whoa," said Harry, staring at Stonehenge.

"You took the word right out of my mouth," Hermione agreed. Like Australians with Uluru, like Peruvians with Machu Picchu, not many people appreciate their national landmarks until they see them for themselves.

"Whoa," said Harry again.

"I think we've established that," Bill pointed out dryly. Harry tore his eyes away from the famous monument to survey his 'chess piece' troops. It seemed like the entire Order was there, plus the whole Auror squad and most of the rest of MLE. Then again, Harry reminded himself, there probably was.

Intense pain flooded Harry's scar for a second, letting him know that Voldemort had arrived. He turned and managed to smile.

Harry and Voldemort met in the middle of the circle.

"So this is your idea of 'a few friends'?" Voldemort scoffed

"Well," Harry replied, "they insisted on coming. Apparently they all think it's not safe for me to meet you alone."

"You really must forgive me my ignorance," Voldemort sneered. "How were you planning on 'chatting' with me once I've killed you?"

"Quite simply, really," Harry said. "I. Don't. Intend. To. Die. And anyway, I wouldn't kill me if I were you, because I'm the only person alive who can tell you what the Prophecy said."

Voldemort stared at him. Somehow, he was less terrifying in broad daylight.

"It's a good job Dumbledore didn't die before he could tell me," Harry continued, "because with the Hall of Prophecy's record smashed, I might never have figured out how to, erm, _vanquish_ you."

"Why did you think I wanted you to give me the record?" Voldemort hissed.

"Well, I wasn't too sure," Harry shrugged. "You never can tell with maniacs, you see."

"Harry, love," Ginny said loudly before Voldemort could hex him, "were you looking for these?" She held up a wand, thirteen inches long and made of yew, and a small purple vial containing Phoenix tears.

"Ta, Ginny," Harry said, and reached for the wand. "That'll be really –"

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. As soon as Harry touched the wand, a ridiculous number of Inferi (priests, judging by their attire) appeared in much the same way that house-elves Apparated. They were somehow more pathetic than petrifying in broad daylight, which they didn't seem to like much. On cue, all the Aurors yelled '_Incendio_!" sending a massive fireball towards the corpses.

"As I was saying," Harry went on once Voldemort had recovered from the shock of the cremation of the protection surrounding his last Horcrux, "that'll be really handy. You know, get rid of the Horcrux in it, the last of six, and all."

"What?" said Voldemort sharply. Behind him, the hooded Death Eater legions were turning to each other, some wondering what Horcruxes were, some wondering that their Dark Lord had made one, and the rest wondering that he had made six.

"Purely because he thought it would be better, make him stronger, if he went further down the path that leads to immortality than anyone before him, by going beyond the realms of usual evil, and having his soul in seven parts," Harry continued. "Yes, Riddle, that's the secret I learnt about you last year. I found out that while your mother was descended from Slytherin himself, your father was the Muggle son of a Muggle squire. I found out that you framed your uncle for the murders of your father and his parents, leaving him to rot in Azkaban. I found out that you framed the house-elf Hokey for the murder of her mistress, Hepzibah Smith. I found out that you cursed the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. I found out that you stole your uncle's ring. I found out that you stole Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. I found out that you turned all three, along with your old diary and your pet snake, into Horcruxes – Horcruxes in the plural, for which no record exists of ever being done before.

"Your wand stumped me for a while, but I figured it out eventually, and now, if you don't mind, I'm going to destroy it."

Harry snapped the wand in two – or at least, he tried to. The yew wood was fairly pliable and snapped easily, but the phoenix feather core lay on his palm. Its ebony hue was rather odd considering that it came from Dumbledore's phoenix Fawkes, who had red and gold feathers but no black ones.

Harry wondered if the feather was that colour because so much Dark magic had been channelled through the wand or because it was where the Horcrux was. Voldemort could only watch in horrified stupefaction as Harry tipped the contents of the vial on to the feather. It gave off steady, black, scentless fumes which engulfed the astonished Voldemort, until the feather was back to its original scarlet. (Not a settee, or a suttee for that matter, in sight.)

"That's better," Harry muttered. "Now, I think it's only fair if you find out what that Prophecy actually said.

"Tell me," Voldemort commanded.

For a moment, Harry contemplated the temptation of complying. While it would be worth it to see Voldemort's face when he realised he had marked a fifteen-month-old toddler as his equal, it _would_ ruin Harry's perfectly-constructed plans. He had a funny feeling the Reducto Curse wouldn't work on Occlumency barriers.

"No, I don't think so, Riddle," said Harry pleasantly. "You and I are the ones it concerns. Shouldn't we be the only ones to know it? Now that Dumbledore is dead, and the record smashed, I mean. Why don't you let down your Occlumency shields? I'm afraid I couldn't bring my Pensieve with me."

Voldemort's red, slit-like eyes narrowed even further. Suddenly Harry's head felt like it was on fire. He hadn't felt this much pain since, well, ever.

He dimly heard Ginny shout his name as he fell to his knees. Scenes from his life were flashing through his mind, and presumably through Voldemort's as well; all his bad memories – the time Dudley broke his arm, the time he accidentally stood on Ripper the bulldog's tail and Ripper literally treed him while the Dursleys just laughed, and other memories. "That's … not … it," Harry growled out, and tried to concentrate on other memories, ones where he wasn't a victim. Meeting Ron for the first time, saving Hermione from the troll, playing Quidditch, going to Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione, reading his article in the Quibbler, watching Ron wake up after his poisoning scare, kissing Ginny … Harry could tell that Voldemort was becoming frustrated and nauseated, trying to pull away, but the link between them worked both ways and Harry kept the Dark Wanker in his mind, watching all Harry's schmaltzy memories of love, friendship, and caring.

"No more!" Voldemort cried, and with an almighty effort he extricated himself from Harry's mind, replacing his Occlumency shields with astounding rapidity.

Harry got shakily to his feet as Voldemort turned around and retched. "And to think I was actually nervous about this," he sneered as Voldemort turned back to face him, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"You didn't show me the Prophecy," Voldemort said accusingly.

"I think you'll find that I did," Harry corrected him. "That _was_ the Prophecy. I can vanquish you because you marked a fifteen-month-old toddler as your equal. Your _equal_, Riddle. I can vanquish you because I have a power that you'll never have. You've never understood love; you've always underestimated it. You have minions. I have friends. You want to live to kill. I want to live, to _live_." He walked forwards and gripped Voldemort's skinny arm. "Let me take you somewhere." He turned sharply, and after a very squashed second or two, Harry felt better even than when Ginny was giving him a massage that morning. So what if they were in a locked room deep in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic? _Harry_ wasn't claustrophobic.

Voldemort, on the other hand, wasn't holding up so well. Still weakened by what Harry had shown him, the room seemed to be really getting to him. On top of his apparent claustrophobia, this was the locked room that, according to Dumbledore, contained a force 'greater and more powerful than death.' This was the Love Room.

"_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_," Harry whispered as Voldemort choked, gagged and writhed around on the floor, more the lunatic snake than ever.

When Tom Riddle finally stopped moving and breathing, his body fell into dust right in front of Harry's astounded eyes, though he understood what was happening. The love in the room had done exactly what Harry had hoped it would do – it smothered what was left of Voldemort's soul, which was intolerant to love. Now, his regenerated body, which had been entirely magical, was releasing the magical energy back into the world. Harry had a funny feeling that in twelve years time, there would be a sudden influx of Muggleborn students at Hogwarts. All that magical power had to go _somewhere_, didn't it?

Feeling pleasantly refreshed, he Apparated back to Stonehenge. He was nearly knocked flat by Ginny running at him. In spite of all the camera flashes around them, he kissed her soundly.

"And to think," Ron said at the grand Ministry party that night, "all that duelling practice, and we didn't so much as Disarm a single Death Eater."

"I think the only reason that they all came quietly was because they were in shock," Hermione remarked.

"Like I said, they were his minions," Harry shrugged. "They wouldn't do anything unless he told them to, and he never ordered them to attack."

"I'm just glad it's over," Ginny announced. Harry most definitely agreed.

The Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour's magically amplified voice boomed out over the enormous crowd. "Could I have your attention for a moment, please? On behalf of the entire Ministry, and the Wizarding World, I'd like to present Mr Potter the Order of Merlin, First Class, for his many great deeds in ridding us of You-Know-Who."

**A.N: Ooh, a cliff-hanger … aren't I evil? OK, basically, when Harry got back to Stonehenge, MLE had apprehended the scores of Death Eaters who had come to see their master pwnd that annoying schoolboy who couldn't even use the Cruciatus Curse. So the Death Nibblers – I mean, Death Eaters – are in Azkaban where they belong. And Harry has been offered the Order of Merlin for getting rid of Voldemort. What will he do about it? (…exactly what I tell him to do, hehe…)  
****Just so you know, Percy stops being a prat and the Weasleys all forgive him. Since that's not important to my story, I didn't write anything about it.**

**I think this Author's Note has gone on long enough. Reviews are always appreciated!**


	12. I Love You

Neil Diamond: Hello Again

**Chapter 12 – The Third Hardest Thing – I Love You  
**_Now that the world isn't ending,  
It's love that I'm sending to you,  
It isn't the love of the hero,  
And that's what I fear it won't do.  
__**Nickelback – 'Hero'**_

**Last time:**

The Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour's magically amplified voice boomed out over the enormous crowd. "Could I have your attention for a moment, please? On behalf of the entire Ministry, and the Wizarding World, I'd like to present Mr Potter the Order of Merlin, First Class, for his many great deeds in ridding us of You-Know-Who."

* * *

A shocked Harry was jostled and pushed to where Scrimgeour was standing next to the repaired Fountain of Magical Brethren. Scrimgeour held out an enormous golden medallion out to Harry.

"Speech!" roared someone from the crowd, possibly a Weasley brother.

"_Sonorus_," Harry muttered, pointing his wand at his throat. "I just have two things I want to say. The first one is: His name was Voldemort. Tom Riddle, if you prefer. He's dead now, he's gone for real this time. There's no reason to shudder and flinch every time someone says 'Voldemort.' The second thing I have to say is that I can't accept this award."

Harry's statement was first met with stunned silence, then hissing whispers, and finally loud protestations. "You all think I deserve this?" he yelled. His voice boomed around the Atrium and certainly shut everyone up. "You think I deserve a shiny medal for getting rid of Voldemort? You think _I_ got rid of Voldemort by myself? I'm not even eighteen yet! Everything I've done – all of it – I had help. Voldemort couldn't kill me as a baby because my mother died to save me. Dumbledore helped me almost every step of the way once I arrived at Hogwarts, and so did my best friends Ron and Hermione. I can't accept an award, I can't accept sole recognition for this, I can't take all the credit for what other people and have done and helped me to do. I'm sorry, Minister. I can't accept this. _Quietus_," he added softly and walked back to his friends. The crowd gave him a wide berth, almost as though his nose had flattened, his eyes had morphed into narrow red slits and his hair had fallen out.

"Are you mad?" Ron hissed.

"Have you any idea how few wizards have turned down the Order of Merlin?" Hermione breathed. "Even Dumbledore –"

"Dumbledore," Harry interrupted her, "defeated Grindelwald by himself. It's not fair to you guys if I take all the credit for things you've done."

Ginny, at least, was on Harry's side, and she showed it by hugging him tightly.

* * *

Ginny went back to Hogwarts when it reopened. This irritated her no end, and Harry too. Still, they saw each other on Hogsmeade visits.

Harry was doing relief work, helped hundreds of wizarding family get back on their feet and out of the three-roomed tents in the refugee camps. The Ministry kept offering to pay Harry, who wouldn't take a Knut. Human kindness couldn't be repaid with gold, and what did he need with more of that anyway? It would be much better spent on aid.

Now that what was becoming known as the 'Phoenix War' was over, Harry began to see the silver lining more often. "Look on the bright side," he told an irate Ginny, who had been complaining about the paparazzi attention they attracted on their Hogsmeade dates. "They're taking our happy snaps for us."

"I just don't like them analysing our every movement," Ginny grumbled. "And, tell me, why does _Witch Weekly_ think Healing isn't good enough for the girlfriend of the great Harry Potter?"

"Because you're too good for everything," Harry replied, pulling her close. Ginny awwwed into his shoulder. "Although I think you'd say Top Box tickets to the first Harpies game of next season, with a meet-and-greet-the-team session afterwards, might be acceptable. You would. I wouldn't."

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny squealed, and through her arms around his neck. The photographers were very snap-happy that afternoon.

Still, the paparazzi rather got on Harry's nerves, too. In a desperate attempt to prove that they were just a normal couple, he took Ginny out quite a lot once she finished school with nine NEWTS. They became regulars at Harpies matches, because Ginny was a fan, and at Cannons matches, because Ron was playing Keeper. They went to Weird Sisters concerts. They even went to see 'Alas, I've Transfigured My Feet,' when it came to the Plotemy Theatre (all proceeds to St Mungo's). When Ginny had time off from her busy Healer-in-training schedule, she helped Harry restore Potter Manor. (The house where Lily and James had been murdered was just the gate-house.)

Since Sunday dinner at the Burrow was a time-honoured tradition and the best time to announce news to the family all at once, Harry went to Diagon Alley, where most of the Weasley brothers met for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, on Saturday. (Harry often joined them if he and Ginny didn't have lunch together at a small Muggle café near St Mungo's.) Harry went to Gringotts with Bill at the end of Bill's lunch break. Bill was still boasting that little Henri-Paul could say 'Firebolt,' which had earned the proud father handshakes from Ron and Harry, and 'Bludger,' which had earned him handshakes from Fred and George.

The rollercoaster down to his vault and back up to the foyer did nothing to soothe Harry's nerves. He really hoped everything would go according to plan that night. As it turned out, he didn't need to worry.

Harry had booked the whole restaurant, so he and Ginny were entirely alone except for the waiting staff and the musicians. The food was scrumptious, the wine wonderful. The pianist, violinist and harpist in the corner played lovely, soft music. Ginny looked stunning (as per usual) and Harry's hair was lying flat for the first time in his life.

When it came to coffee time, and Harry still hadn't asked Ginny that all-important question, he played it safe with a cappuccino, while Ginny tried something called an affogato, which turned out to be a shot of expresso poured over gelato.

"You know, you look adorable with that bit of froth on your nose," Ginny giggled.

Harry self-consciously wiped his nose with his napkin. He didn't want Ginny laughing at him while he did this. The monster in his chest roared at him to get a move on. Taking a deep breath, he slid from his seat to a kneeling position beside Ginny's chair, pulling a small box from his pocket as he did so. Ginny stared at him with eyes as wide as Galleons as he flipped the box open, then her jaw dropped as she gazed at the enormous diamond ring it contained.

* * *

"Of course I said yes, Mum," Ginny sighed. "Would I be wearing it if I hadn't?"

Even though it was officially happening, Harry and Ginny's wedding was a long time coming. First off, Ron and Hermione were getting married, and Harry and Ginny didn't want to steal their thunder. Next, Percy, who had been accepted back into the Weasley family after making a formal apology, was made Minister for Magic, and one of the first things he did was give the Order of Merlin to Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and every member of the Order of the Phoenix for their valuable aid in the Phoenix War. Then Bill and Fleur announced that they were expecting another baby, and then Ron and Hermione announced that _they_ were expecting a little bundle of joy. Harry and Neville threw a raucous party when Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange were sentenced to receiving the Dementor's Kiss. So, what with one thing and another, it was June 1 2001 when Harry and Ginny finally tied the knot.

Two sets of twins later, Harry and Ginny were celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary on the same day as the seventh anniversary of the conclusion of the Phoenix War. The family attended the annual memorial service as always. James and Albus knew to sit still and be quiet, while Lily and Gwen weren't old enough to do much more than sit on their parents' laps. The Ministry took an unusual approach this year, and played a Muggle song.

_Amen, I, I'm alive  
Amen, I, I'm alive  
If everyone cared and nobody cried  
If everyone loved and nobody lied  
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride  
Then we'd see the day when nobody died_

**A.N: This is the last chapter. Ending song: 'If Everyone Cared,' by Nickelback. Many thanks to the only person to have reviewed so far - the-irish-redhead. Thanks also to those who put this story on Story Alert - the-irish-redhead, 100-percent-Harry-Potter-obsessed, and tdphipps2 - and to those who (so far) have put this story in their Favourites - the-irish-redhead, tdphipps2 and kezza2007. I have an outtake, a scene that simply wouldn't fit in this chapter, that I will be posting next weekend if you want to look out for it. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviews are always appreciated!**


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